


An Angel and a Devil

by Rainne



Series: A State of Grace [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Fantastic Four (Movieverse), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Crack, Crack Crossover, Crack Relationships, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, I'm really not sure how many more ways I can warn you that this is crack, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, The author has not been smoking crack, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, there really is no excuse for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-14 05:38:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 38,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2180010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainne/pseuds/Rainne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's Ma always used to say that God wouldn't pair up an angel and a devil.</p><p>It's possible that Steve's Ma might have been wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [write love on my skin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1835587) by [amusewithaview](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amusewithaview/pseuds/amusewithaview). 



> Okay look.
> 
> I know. I know you've all been waiting for me to update _Deepest Secret_. I kind of wanted to be working on that, myself. But I can't work on that right now, because of this.
> 
> This, I would like for everyone to know right up front, is ENTIRELY AND COMPLETELY the fault of amusewithaview. I was NOT going to write this. I had ZERO INTENTION of ever writing this. But then. Then she kept coming up with all these new soul mark AUs and she just. won't. update. the. ones. I. want. Where is Johnny/Darcy, Anna? Where is the Met storyline? Where, for the love of all that is holy, is the main original continuity? She won't do it.
> 
> This is why we can't have nice things.

One of the first things Darcy Lewis ever learned in life was that she should never, ever discuss her soul mark with anyone. Ever. As a child, she didn't understand this restriction; her mother told her (over and over again, until she could repeat the mini-speech in her sleep) that soul marks were personal and private, and that no matter what the other girls did in the bathroom or the gym locker room, she should not under any circumstances show hers to anyone or tell anyone what it said.

She was eleven before she finally understood why.

She'd thought, for a long time, that perhaps her parents were just especially prudish or something; after all, her soul mark was incredibly tame. He just introduced himself by name, apologized for her inconvenience, and said that he would make sure she got home right away. She thought it was nice; kind of old-fashioned, but nice.

And then, when she was eleven, she found herself standing in front of the television and looking at her soul mate as he became the supreme leader (and, apparently, Evil Dictator) of his country. When the newscast went off, she looked at her mother across the kitchen and said, "You knew."

Her mother nodded. "We knew."

Darcy looked back at the television, which was now displaying the weather report. "This is... kind of big," she said.

"You could say that," her mother agreed. "Do you understand now?"

"Uh," Darcy replied. "Yeah." And that was the end of that conversation.

When she was sixteen, she watched her soul mate do battle against the Fantastic Four for the first time, and she wondered quietly: what did it say about her, that her soul mate and apparent "perfect match" was an actual, real-life supervillain? And then, after some thought, she realized that it actually said a whole lot.

When she was eighteen, she went off to college. Her parents worried, letting her go away like that, but she promised to be careful. "After all," she said, "it's not like I'm going to attract _his_ attention at a tiny little school like Culver!" And she promptly majored in political science, because _Evil Dictator._

When she was twenty-two, with only a semester left to go before she finished her degree, she took an internship as an easy way to pick up six science credits without having to actually step foot inside a science classroom.  _Oops._

When she was twenty-four, still working in astrophysics - or possibly interplanetary relations? - she followed Jane Foster to London.  _Oops_ .

When she was twenty-five, she stood in Jane's mother's kitchen and watched BBC News report on the fall of SHIELD. When the coverage began to loop for lack of new information, she shut the television off and said, "What time is it in New York?" After determining that it was midafternoon, she pulled a worn business card out of her wallet, picked up her cell phone and made an astronomically expensive overseas phone call. "Mr. Stark, this is Darcy Lewis. I'm calling about that offer you made to move Jane Foster and me to New York."

A few weeks later, she and Jane moved onto Thor's floor in Avengers Tower. Being back in the States was good, but being in the Tower, where they were safe, was in Darcy's opinion a thousand times better. HYDRA was still disorganized in the wake of Steve and Natasha and Company burning SHIELD to the ground and salting the ashes, but they wouldn't stay that way forever, and they weren't the only group who would be dangerous. Especially now that SHIELD's files were all out on the Internet and everyone who happened to look at them knew who Darcy Lewis was and how she knew Thor.

Meeting the Fantastic Four was not something Darcy expected; she'd kind of gotten the feeling that the different superhero teams all worked independently from one another. It was pleasant to find out that this was not quite the case; it turned out that, though the teams were nominally separate, they were in constant communication and worked together when needed. It was not unusual to bump into one of the X-Men, usually Wolverine or Gambit or Rogue, in the common areas, or to find Reed Richards or Sue Storm collaborating with Jane (or, more rarely, Bruce or Tony).

It was more unusual to find Johnny Storm in the common area, smoking hard and up in Steve Rogers's face about something, but when she encountered the situation, about two months after moving in, Darcy leapt - literally - right into the middle of it, putting one hand in the center of each man's chest and pushing - not that she accomplished anything. " _Okay_ ," she said, more loudly and forcefully than she usually did. "Let's all take a breath and about four steps back from one another.  _Now_ , Steve.  _Now_ , Johnny."

There was a long, tense moment when she was afraid they might ignore her completely and start swinging around or through her, but finally Steve broke, taking the requested four steps back. As soon as he moved, Johnny did as well, and once they were separated, Darcy took a long, shaky breath.  _That was stupid,_ she chastised herself.  _You could've been hurt_ . But she was fairly confident that neither one of them would have hurt her, regardless of how angry they might be at each other. She took another breath, and hoped her voice was even when she spoke again. "Thank you," she said, trying to keep her tone calm. "Steve, you go first. Use your words instead of your fists."

"I don't appreciate being mocked about my mark," Steve finally ground out. His fists were clenching and relaxing repeatedly, the movement almost rhythmic. "I can put up with a lot, but not that."

"You need to  _chill out_ ," Johnny shot back. "I didn't say a goddamn thing to you about your mark!"

"The hell you didn't!" Steve began, his voice rising, but Darcy reached up and clapped a hand across his mouth.

"Hush," she said repressively. "Johnny, as closely as you can, please tell me  _exactly_ what you said to Steve."

There was a long pause before he replied, somewhat sullenly, "I quoted  _Silence of the Lambs_ ." He glanced over at Darcy, who was frowning at him in consternation. He waved a hand expressively. "There's a resemblance."

"I've noticed," Darcy replied dryly. She looked from Johnny to Steve and back again. "Oh!" she suddenly exclaimed. "The Buffalo Bill line." She paused. "That's kinda creepy, Johnny."

"It was the first thing that came to mind!" Johnny defended himself. "And anyway, so what? That doesn't give him the right to... to... slut-shame me!"

Darcy bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing in his face. "Johnny, sweetheart, I'm pretty sure it's impossible to shame you for  _anything._ "  She looked up at Steve, removing her hand from his mouth. "Steve, what did you say to Johnny?"

Steve had, by now, gone dark red. "I said," he admitted, squaring his shoulders, "that it was very likely that was the only person he hadn't... yet."

Darcy's jaw dropped. "Steve!" she gasped, not sure if she was proud or horrified. "I didn't know you had it in you!"

His face crumpled a little, both regretful and angry at once. "I'm sorry," he said. "But I  _really_ don't like it when people make fun of my mark!"

"I told you, man, I _wasn't_ !" Johnny exclaimed.

"Okay,  _stop_ ," Darcy said. Suspicion was beginning to form in her mind. "Steve, where's your mark?"

"On my back," he answered.

She moved around behind him, gently touching his shoulder blade. "May I see, please?"

Steve sighed heavily, then reached up and pulled on the back of his shirt, lifting it up high enough for her to read the words scrawled messily across his skin.  _Would you_ _fuck me? I'd fuck me. I'd fuck me hard._

"Okay. Thank you." She tugged his shirt back down and smoothed the fabric over his skin with both hands. Then she moved across the room. "Johnny," she said, "where's yours?"

He stared at her, a dawning horror in his own eyes. "Oh, God," he muttered. He reached down and hooked his thumb into the loose waistband of his pants, tugging it down far enough for Darcy to read the words that arched over his left butt cheek, in neat Palmer-style cursive writing that she recognized quite easily.  _That's probably the only person you haven't fucked yet._

She raised her head, looking over Johnny's shoulder at Steve. "How the hell is it possible that you've known each other longer than I've known either of you, and neither of you has actually  _spoken_ to the other before today?"

Steve blinked. "What?"

"He wasn't  _making fun_ of your soul mark, you asshole," Darcy said, shoving Johnny closer to Steve. "He was  _saying it._ Look." She manhandled Johnny into turning, and pulled his waistband down again to show Steve the words on Johnny's skin in Steve's own writing. "See?"

Steve stared at Johnny in shock.

Johnny stared back in horror.

Darcy grinned broadly. "Congratulations!"

"That is  _not possible_ ," Johnny blurted. "I'm  _straight_ ."

Darcy blinked. "Totally straight? Kinsey zero?"

"Well," Johnny temporized. "Maybe a one. But... but..."

"I'm in love with someone else," Steve interrupted. "So I can't..."

"The guy with the metal arm, right?" Johnny asked, relief washing over his face. "Tony said you knew him from before."

"Yeah, that's..." Steve swallowed hard. "That's Bucky. He was..."

"I know," Johnny said when Steve's voice trailed off. "They teach you guys in history starting from like fifth grade. And I can put the rest together. I mean, being gay wasn't legal back then, right?"

"Yeah," Steve admitted, almost crumpling onto a stool at the kitchen counter. He rested his elbows on the granite and put his head in his hands. "When I lost him... it was like my whole world ended. He was everything to me. And now, finding out that he's still alive... but what they did to him..." He shook his head, trailing off again.

There was a moment of silence before Johnny reached out and rested his hand on Steve's shoulder. "So talk to me," he said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "Maybe I can help."

Darcy took several very quiet steps backward toward the door, watching as Johnny hooked a stool with his foot and pulled it over so that he could sit down beside Steve. Their voices were low now, too low for her to hear from the doorway, but she could see the shifting of their postures as they turned toward each other, and she grinned broadly at the sight and felt extraordinarily privileged to have witnessed it. She slipped from the room and hurried to the elevator.

She burst into the astrophysics lab, where Sue and Reed and Jane were all studying something on some of the equipment. "Guys, guys, guys!" she exclaimed. "Stop sciencing for a minute, this is important!"

Jane raised her head, giving Darcy a tired look. "What is it, Darcy?"

"Johnny!" she exclaimed. "Johnny and Steve!"

Sue raised an eyebrow. "What about them?"

"Soulmates!"

Reed blinked at her. "That's impossible, we'd have known by now."

Darcy grinned. "Nope! Somehow, possible. I just watched it happen."

"But we've been working together for _..._ my God, since the Battle of Manhattan," Sue said. "They have to have spoken to each other since then; it's been two years."

"But Steve was transferred to Washington for over a year," Darcy pointed out. "And Johnny doesn't come to the Tower much, does he?"

"No, that's true," Reed said. Then he broke into a broad smile. "Steve, huh?"

"Yep!" Darcy confirmed, grinning broadly. "I'm pretty sure they're platonic; the first thing Johnny did was declare that he was straight, and of course everybody knows by now that Steve's in love with Bucky. But  _still_ ."

"This is the best thing ever," Sue said, a brilliant smile crossing her face. "Maybe now he'll finally have someone he feels like he can look up to and respect, and he'll start maturing."

"Let's hope so," Darcy said. "Because the next time he tries to grab my ass, I swear to Thor I'm breaking all his fingers."

~*~

Johnny threw himself into the search for Bucky with as much will as Steve himself, and it wasn't long before both of them were crisscrossing the country together with Sam Wilson, following leads and searching for the love of Steve's very long life. Johnny's resemblance to Steve ended up being instrumental in finally bringing Bucky in from the cold: they tracked him to a small town in western Kentucky, where he was hiding and healing and trying to regain his memories.

Bucky saw Johnny before anyone else saw Bucky, and before Johnny quite knew what was going on, he had his arms full of weeping super-assassin. With no idea what else to do, he wrapped his arms around Bucky and held on until Sam and Steve got there - at which point things very nearly degenerated into a brawl, as Bucky's first, confused assumption was that one or the other - or both - of the blond men was a HYDRA ploy.

It took Steve pulling out the story of their first kiss - "under the boardwalk on Brighton Beach, remember? I was twelve and you were thirteen and we were so scared that somebody might see us" - for Bucky to understand that it wasn't a ploy, and then he threw himself into Steve's arms and wept some more. He went back to their motel with them that night, and agreed to return to New York with them the next day.

They brought him, temporarily, to the Baxter Building. It was Johnny's idea, but Sam backed him up on it. "It makes sense," he told Steve. "Anybody who might know he's been brought in, the first place they're gonna look is Avengers' Tower. So while they're looking at Avengers' Tower, we can be battening down the hatches in the Baxter. And if worse comes to worst, we can get him out of there."

Steve had to admit, after thinking about it, that it was probably a good idea, and Bucky went along with it because Steve said it was okay. Tony cobbled together some tracking devices that could be worn, swallowed, and otherwise carried on one's person, and Darcy - as the least noticeable person with high enough clearance - was dispatched to the Baxter Building to deliver them to Bucky and Steve, just in case.

It was when she left the building that disaster struck.

Darcy was a target - everyone knew that. She was a target because of her association with Jane and Thor, because she lived in the Tower, because she was friends with the Avengers, and because she knew things about Jane's research. She was a target because she'd been on-site for Thor's first arrival on Earth. She was a target because her name was all over SHIELD's Thor-related files.

She never expected to be a target because she was seen hugging Johnny Storm outside the Baxter Building on a random Wednesday.

He walked her out, making jokes at his own expense the way he often did with people he trusted, and she hugged him just outside the door. "You've really grown up a lot recently, Johnny," she told him. "It's a good look on you."

"Oh, yeah?" he grinned down at her. "So now will you sleep with me?"

"Poor little J," she replied, reaching up and patting his cheek. "You always want what you just can't have." Then she turned away and started up the street.

"Someday you'll change your mind," he called out to her.

"Maybe so," she called back over her shoulder. "But not today!"

He disappeared back into the building. She walked behind a conversion van. She did not emerge on the other side.

Inside the van, she struggled against the iron grip of the man who held her, screaming against the thick towel being pressed against her face, but it was no use; her nose and mouth filled with a sickeningly sweet smell, and her lungs felt like they were full of something entirely  _wrong_ . Her fingers and toes began to go numb, and then her vision darkened. A moment later, she knew nothing at all.

When she woke again, she was still in the van, and by craning her neck, she could see New York outside the windshield. It hadn't been very long, then. Long enough, though, that she was now lying on a hospital-style gurney, her wrists and ankles bound securely like a psychiatric patient. She was still wearing her own clothing, but had been covered up by a sheet, and a rubber mouth guard had been shoved between her teeth and somehow secured around her head, effectively gagging her.

She made a loud, angry noise.

A man's voice spoke from the other side of the van. "There's no use getting worked up," he said, a faint accent to his voice that Darcy couldn't place. "We're almost there, and nobody's going to see or hear you except me. You can either lie there quietly or I can knock you out again, but chloroform's bad business. You don't stay out long, so I'd have to leave the towel on your face, and that can cause nausea and topical burns and liver damage. It's better if you just relax."

She made another loud, angry noise.

"Everything will be explained when we get where we're going," the voice said. "You won't be hurt."

She made another noise, just to let him know that she wasn't going to give up without a fight. He chuckled softly but did not respond; instead, she distinctly heard him settle into his seat and begin humming a tune she didn't recognize. She craned her neck again, struggling to see where they were going; a moment later, something soft and thick covered her eyes. From the scent of her own perfume, she recognized the scarf that had been stuffed into her messenger bag. "No, no," the voice said. "You don't need to know where we are. It'll only upset you."

She made a furious screech behind the gag, but he only chuckled again, patting her on the shin. "Don't worry," he said. "It won't be much longer, and you'll be able to move around a bit."

She couldn't tell how long they drove; it could have been five minutes or an hour. But quite suddenly there was a bump and the sound of the road changed; they had gotten off the pavement and onto gravel. A few minutes later, there was another bump, and the van was back on pavement again; only another minute after that, the whole thing shifted and drove up an incline into some kind of huge, echoing space. The van's engine cut off.

Darcy waited, but there was no other movement in the van; she listened carefully, but all the sounds outside were muffled voices speaking a language she didn't recognize. There were a number of loud, metallic bangs, and then, quite suddenly, a loud mechanical whine that was somehow familiar. She struggled to place how she knew the sound, and only realized what it was when the sound was paired with movement.

An airplane. They'd driven the van onto an airplane. She was being flown somewhere.

She panicked and began struggling with her bonds, her movements causing the gurney to rock in place. It was steadied a moment later by strong hands, and the man's voice said, "If you don't stop, I'm going to have to knock you out again. You don't want that. Just settle down."

She made a variety of panicked, angry noises, but he ignored her protests, simply patting her on the shoulder. "Just relax," he said again. There was a moment of pressure as the plane lifted off the ground, and Darcy whimpered in terror. A voice, muffled through the body of the van, came over a loudspeaker, but its owner wasn't using English, and Darcy still didn't know what was going on.

A moment later, the scarf was removed from her eyes, and the man who had snatched her into the van was tucking it into her bag, which he then laid on the gurney beside her. Someone opened the van door from outside, and the gurney (with her on it) was maneuvered out of the van, then the man rolled it across a wide cargo bay, through a door, and down a wood-paneled hallway. They stopped at a door, and there was a succession of electronic beeps before the door slid open. The man pulled the gurney through the door, which slid shut behind him.

He took the bag off the gurney and set it aside somewhere. Then he said, "All right, deep breath." She made a noise of inquiry which was answered by the reappearance of the chloroform towel. She held her breath for as long as she could, but that wasn't long, and within seconds she was out again.

When she came to, she was alone, lying on a very soft surface. She waited for the dizziness to pass before she sat up and looked around, finding herself in a small but well-appointed bedroom. The bed was a double, the mattress firm but soft, and covered with a soft, whiskey-colored duvet. A small table sat under one of the two windows in the room; there was a chair beside it that was upholstered in suede the exact same shade as the duvet. Under the other window was a low bookshelf, stocked with a variety of hardback volumes in different genres. A flat-screen television hung on the wall between the two windows, and the remote control was lying on the nightstand. There were two doors in the room; one of them, the one she had probably come in through, had an electronic keypad and was probably locked. The other stood open, revealing a small but functional bathroom.

Darcy's bag was in the chair; she lunged across the room for it and upended it over the bed, scrabbling through her things. Her phone was gone - no surprise - as was her StarkPad. Her Kindle was still there, though, and so was her iPod. She smirked, then turned the Kindle on.

There was no wi-fi on the plane; that was not a surprise to Darcy. She didn't care; she didn't need it. The first thing Tony Stark had done when she moved into the Tower, after bemoaning the fact that she wouldn't let him blow up her iPod, was to install backdoor software on every piece of electronics that she owned and regularly carried. She had only to open up the very innocuous-looking application, and the Kindle hooked itself up to one of Stark Industries' proprietary communications satellites.

Within thirty seconds, Darcy was Skyping directly into Tony's workshop. "Tony!"

His head jerked up as JARVIS shut the music off, and he looked around. "What?"

"Tony!" Darcy said again. She watched him look around for a moment more before finally finding her on the monitor over the fabrication units.

"Lewis?" he asked. Then he blinked. "Are you on the emergency protocol? What happened? Where are you?"

"I don't know!" she exclaimed. She gave him a rundown of everything that had happened after she left the Baxter Building.

"Okay, don't panic," he told her, working on one of the computers. "I've got the satellites tracking your location now - you're over the Atlantic and heading east. JARVIS, call the assembly." He fell silent for a moment, his fingers flying over the keyboard, and then he froze, staring at something on his own screen. Slowly, he lifted his head and looked directly at her. "Lewis," he said. "Do not panic."

"Oh, shit," she whispered. "What is it?"

He held up one hand. " _Do not panic._ "

"If you don't spit it out, Tony, I am most definitely going to panic.  _What is it?_ "

He took a deep breath. "The plane you're on filed a flight plan direct across the continent. You're headed to Doomstadt."

"Oh,  _fuck_ ," Darcy whispered.

"Darcy, don't panic," Tony said again. "We're going to get you out of there. Clint's scrambling the Quinjet already, we're barely two hours behind you."

"No you won't," Darcy said, her grip on the Kindle white-knuckled as she fought not to cry. "He won't let me go. How did he find out? I've never told anyone, never shown anyone. How did he know?"

"Darcy, what are you talking about?" Tony asked. "How does who know what?"

"Von Doom!" she exclaimed. "He's my soul mate. But how did he find out?"

Tony stared at her. "How the hell is Victor von Doom your soul mate?"

Darcy stood up. She braced the Kindle on the table, leaned against her bag, and she stepped in front of it. Then she unzipped her pants.

"Whoa!" Tony said, throwing his hands up in front of his eyes. "Pepper will kill us both!"

"Shut up, Tony," she snapped. "Look."

He lowered his hand and took a cautious peek over the top of it, then dropped it completely and stared. She'd pulled the waistband of her underwear down just far enough so that he could see the words on her skin, just above the ridge of her pubic bone. "Oh," he said. "Oh, shit."

"Exactly," Darcy said, pulling the cotton fabric back up and then re-fastening her jeans. "Now tell me again how you think this is going to go down."

Tony's mouth firmed into a flat, hard line. "Believe me," he said, "he's not keeping you against your will. I don't care if we have to pull down Castle Von Doom brick by brick. Do you hear me?"

Darcy nodded, swallowing hard. "Okay," she whispered.

"Okay. Good girl." He nodded once. "I'm getting in the suit now," he said. "The jet's going to be wheels up in about five minutes. The satellites have you, and they won't lose track of you, so just keep your tech on you and you'll be fine. Okay? We're coming to get you, Darcy."

She nodded again. "Okay."

The screen went dark, and she set the Kindle back down on the table. Then she slumped down into the chair and stared out the window at the ocean.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are seriously the best. I had no idea you would all get _so excited_ about this pairing. YOU ARE TEMPTING ME SORELY INTO DOING OTHER THINGS I HAD NOT PLANNED ON DOING WITH THIS STORY. STAHP.  <3 <3 <3

The flight took a little over nine hours, altogether. During that time, Darcy watched a movie, read several chapters in a book on her Kindle, checked in with Tony twice, ate a meal that was brought to her by a smiling, non-English-speaking elderly woman, and had an extremely solid nap. She was awakened from her sleep by a firm knocking on the door, just before it slid open to reveal the man who'd been in the van with her. "I'm sorry to disturb you," he said, "but we'll be landing soon, and I thought you might like some time to freshen up."

"Yeah, sure," she replied, sarcasm heavy in her voice. "Thanks a  _billion_ ."

He gave her a slight bow and said, with no trace of irony, "You're very welcome." He stepped back, and the door slid shut again. She grabbed her Kindle and slipped into the bathroom, keying it on and opening the emergency app. "Tony? Creepy von Creeperson just came in to tell me we'll be landing soon."

"Acknowledged," Tony replied. Beside him, she could see Natasha dozing on the bench seat inside the Quinjet. "Cap, you got that?"

"Got it," Steve's voice said from the cockpit relay. "We're right behind you, Darcy."

"Thanks, guys," Darcy said. She killed the active connection and leaned out the door, tossing the Kindle onto the bed. Then she used the bathroom, washed her hands and her face, tried to do something with her hair (she ended up just braiding it back, because anything else was purely hopeless), and quickly applied some foundation, eyeliner, and lip color from her emergency makeup kit because kidnapped or not, there was _no way_ she wasn't going to make the best first impression she could. That done, she packed everything carefully away in her bag and sat down at the table, watching Europe pass under the belly of the airplane.

Within about ten minutes, the plane was circling an airport, and the black-clad man had come back to the door. "Come with me, please," he said. "It would be best for everyone concerned if you came quietly."

"Yeah, yeah," she grumbled. She stood up and approached him. He reached out to take her arm as she stepped out the door, and she jerked back away from him. "No," she said, her voice firm. "I'll come with you, and I won't put up a fuss, but you don't touch me. Got it?"

He gave her a slight bow of acquiescence, and motioned with one hand. "This way, please."

She followed him through the plane to what seemed to be a central seating area; he asked her to sit and fasten her safety belt for the landing. Once she'd done hers, he did his own, and they sat in silence until the plane had come to a stop on the tarmac. Then he stood and so did she.

An attendant came and opened the door, and Darcy watched as the ground crew brought one of those wheeled staircases up to it. The man in black gestured for her to precede him out the door, so she went, squinting just a little bit at the sight of the sun rising in the east. "What time is it?" she asked, glancing at her watch. It was not yet midnight in New York.

"Nearly seven," the man replied. "On Thursday."

"Ugh," Darcy groaned. "I hate time zones." She reached the bottom of the staircase and took several steps forward, away from it. The ground crew would not meet her eyes. She huffed slightly.

Her - kidnapper? jailer? minder? - companion gestured to a long black limousine that was idling nearby. "This way, please."

The inside of the limo was plush, and the man even offered her a drink from the little mini-bar, but she refused it, instead clutching at her messenger bag with hands that shook.  _How did he find out, how did he know, how did he find me?_ The words chased themselves around and around inside her head as the car passed through the city of Doomstadt. Her stomach was in knots, and she felt like she might be sick; it was so bad that she couldn't even appreciate the scenery outside the car window.

Later, she would be sorry about not being able to savor her first look at the city; it was absolutely nothing like what she had expected the inside of a dictatorship to look like. She had been expecting North Korea or Soviet Russia; instead, it was plainly beautiful, with architecture in various European styles, painted in bright and cheerful colors, wide lawns and bright flowers, and everything very neat and clean and orderly. There was not very much vehicular traffic, but that didn't mean much; it was still fairly early in the morning. There were, however, a number of pedestrians and bicyclists, and even some people on roller skates, roller blades, and skateboards.

Some part of Darcy filed it all away; the rest of her focused on the sight of Castle Von Doom, an ancient and imposing edifice that loomed over the city directly ahead. She fought down a whimper when the car fell into the castle's shadow, and when it crossed the drawbridge and entered the castle proper, she closed her eyes and, for the first time in a very long time, she prayed.

When the car stopped, the driver hopped out and opened the door. Darcy climbed out first, followed by her nameless companion, and she waited for directions. He gestured again, and she followed him up a gently sloped ramp and into a stone hallway. The interior of the castle was a bit chilly, even for the summertime; Darcy assumed that it was constructed that way, and wondered if anyone might give her a sweater or if she was simply going to be thrown into a cell somewhere. What  _did_ an Evil Dictator do with his newly-captured soul mate? 

They passed through hallway after hallway, taking a convoluted path through the building that she could never hope to remember or retrace. By the time they reached what was obviously the throne room, Darcy was trembling all over from both the fear and the chill in the air. The long, cavernous room was nearly empty, except for a few people on and around the dais at the far end. Darcy's companion gestured to the deep green carpet runner that covered the floor from the door all the way up to the dais, and said simply, "Please."

Darcy swallowed hard and straightened herself up. She squared her shoulders.  _All right, Darcy,_ she said to herself.  _You've faced down the Destroyer, and you've faced down Dark Elves, and you've faced down Jane and Tony on a science bender. You can face this, too._ She took a deep breath and started forward, her footfalls silent on the thick green carpet.

There were four men standing on or near the dais, all dressed in sober, dark-colored suits; Doom himself was sitting on the throne, wearing his usual attire of silver body armor covered by a green hooded tunic. Darcy stopped far enough away that she could only barely hear the voices of the suit-wearing men and waited.

After a moment, one of the men turned and paced toward her. He spoke to her in what she assumed must be Latverian. She said, "I'm sorry... I don't speak Latverian. Um. English, Français, Farsi?"

"I speak English," the man replied, a dry and unimpressed look on his face. "Is there something you needed? Lord Doom is a very busy man."

Darcy straightened even further, incensed. "Considering that I wouldn't even be here if he hadn't sent his goons to snatch me off a New York street in broad daylight, I guess he can spare five minutes to tell me what the hell  _he_ wants with  _me_ ."

The man blinked, startled, and said, "Wait here." Then he turned and hurried back to the dais. Darcy could not hear what he said, but there was no mistaking Victor von Doom's voice when he rose from his seat. "BORIS ALBU!" he roared. "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!"

Darcy's companion/kidnapper hurried forward, passing her by just a few steps and dropping to one knee, bending his head. "Lord Doom," he said, "you told me to acquire the girl from the Baxter Building, and - "

"YOU WERE ORDERED TO BRING SUE STORM, YOU USELESS, CLOD-WITTED BOOT-LICKER!" He strode forward, his cape fluttering behind him, and grabbed the man by the ear like a nun, hauling him back through the throne room to the door. There, he shoved the fellow off toward one of the armed guards that stood on either side of the door. "THE DUNGEON," he bellowed. "AND TOMORROW THE STOCKS FROM DAWN UNTIL DUSK SO THAT ALL MAY KNOW YOU HAVE DISAPPOINTED DOOM." He stood there, his arms folded across his chest, and watched as the guard hauled the unfortunate fellow away. Once they were both gone, he turned to Darcy.

She shrank back, just a little bit, at the sight of the fire in his eyes. He was easily a foot taller than she was, perhaps more, and twice as broad in the shoulders. Some ridiculous part of her brain wondered if he worked out. The part more concerned with self-preservation wondered if she could possibly escape this maze of a castle, or at least manage to hide herself long enough for the Avengers to arrive and rescue her.

And then he stopped, swept his cape back, and bowed to her. "DOOM EXTENDS HIS HUMBLEST APOLOGIES FOR THE INCONVENIENCE," he rumbled, his regular speaking voice, amplified through the mask, only slightly less voluble than his angry shout. "YOU WILL BE RETURNED TO YOUR HOME AT ONCE, OF COURSE. PLEASE, TELL DOOM HOW HE MAY RECOMPENSE YOU FOR YOUR TROUBLE."

Darcy squeaked.

Doom tilted his head slightly, and Darcy had the impression that he'd cocked one eyebrow behind that terrifying mask. He studied her carefully, as if examining a particularly odd specimen, and he waited. Darcy swallowed hard.  _You can do this,_ she told herself.  _You've been prepping for this for years. You can do this._

She took a deep breath. "It's okay," she said. "It was an accident. I understand."

Doom went very still. His eyes, behind the mask, turned sharp, and studied her carefully. She nodded once in answer to the question that he was very loudly not asking, and he took a step back. Gesturing to the men in the suits he said, "LEAVE US."

There was no attempt to argue; the four men simply bowed and filed out of the room. The huge oaken door banged shut behind them. Doom stared down at her. "SO," he said finally. "IT IS YOU."

She shrugged. "Looks like it?" she said. "I mean... there's not really much question about it on my end." She paused, then added, "I'm Darcy Lewis, by the way."

He studied her carefully. Then he said, "WILL YOU SHOW DOOM HIS MARK UPON YOU?"

She blushed. She could feel her entire face go red, and the heat of it continue down her neck. "I, um. It's..." She put her hand over the place where the mark was.

"AH." He was quiet for a moment, studying her, and then he said, "COME." He turned and started across the room, making his way to the left side of the dais; she stood there for a moment, startled, before collecting her wits and trotting along after him.

He led her through a hidden door and then down a hallway, up a spiral staircase, down another hallway, and then up another spiral staircase. At the top, he drew a key from somewhere -  _Does he have pockets in that thing?_ she wondered - and unlocked a plain wooden door. He pushed it open and gestured for her to precede him. 

She obeyed, wondering if this was the part where he locked her up forever, and was surprised to find herself in a wide, warmly-furnished room. There were thick rugs on the stone floors, and the wood paneling glowed golden in the morning sunlight that poured in through the tall windows. Everywhere she looked, there was comfortable-looking furniture, wide sofas and squashy-looking chairs and tall, overstuffed bookcases. On one side of the room, there was a kitchenette set up; on another side, a small area had been arranged around a wide flat-screen television. Another spiral staircase in the center of the room led up, and Darcy realized that they were in one of the castle's round towers.

She moved forward into the room. "This is lovely," she murmured, looking around. "It's even warmer than downstairs."

"YES," he replied. "IT IS EASIER TO BE COMFORTABLE WHEN ONE DOES NOT FEEL FROSTBITTEN, IS IT NOT?"

Darcy jumped slightly and squeaked; he was much closer to her back than she had expected. He studied her for a moment. "ARE YOU AFRAID OF DOOM?" he asked.

She swallowed. "A little bit," she admitted. "I mean... I get that it was an accident and all, but getting snatched off the street was kind of... um... terrifying? I didn't know who had me or where I was going until after I was on the plane, and I only found out then because of Tony."

"TONY?" he asked. The blankness of his mask was unnerving; she couldn't tell if he was merely curious or if he was growing angry.

"Stark. Um. I should probably mention that the Avengers are coming to get me."

There was a momentary pause. "ARE THEY."

She nodded. "All my tech is Stark-enhanced," she explained. "And your guy took my phone, but he didn't take my Kindle or my iPod."

At that, Doom chuckled softly. "YOU ARE RESOURCEFUL," he said. "DOOM LIKES THAT."

She found herself smiling back at him. "Thanks."

He moved across the room toward the kitchenette. "WOULD YOU CARE FOR SOMETHING TO EAT OR DRINK?"

Darcy started to say no, but was prevented from doing so by her stomach, which rumbled loudly. "DOOM WILL TAKE THAT AS A YES," he said simply. He pulled open the refrigerator and began pulling out eggs and cheese. "AN OMELET?"

She paused, then shrugged.  _What the hell?_ she thought.  _He's my damn soul mate. I have to start somewhere._ "Sure," she said. She shrugged her bag off over the top of her head and placed it into a nearby chair. "If you don't mind, I'm going to call Tony and let him know that there's no need to show up with guns blazing."

He chuckled again as he cracked eggs into a bowl. "THAT WOULD BE MUCH APPRECIATED."

She watched him for a moment.  _I am watching Victor von Doom make me an omelet. What even is my life?_ Then she shook her head and dug her Kindle out of her bag. The battery was low, so she scrounged out the charger, found a power outlet, and plugged it in. Then she activated the app. The screen lit up immediately, but it was not Tony's face she saw. It was Clint's. "Hey," she said as she dropped down to sit on the floor. "How far out are you guys?"

"An hour, maybe less," Clint replied. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Darcy replied. "Absolutely one hundred percent A-okay. He's making me an omelet." And how weird was that? The absolute monarch - slash - dictator of Latveria, a man known for his terrifying death robots and his really, really poor international relations... was making her  _breakfast_ .

"WOULD YOU PREFER HAM OR SAUSAGE?" Doom asked.

"Uh," she replied, glancing back toward the kitchen. "Ham is fine, thank you."

Clint's eyes narrowed at her on the Kindle screen. "Darce?"

"Clinton," she replied. Then she held up one hand and twisted her fingers into the shapes he had taught her.  _C-L-E-A-R_ , she spelled.  _S-A-F-E._

He visibly relaxed on the screen. "Okay," he said. "If you're sure."

"Sure that he's making an omelet? Yeah, I'm totally sure." She winked at him. "I promise, Clint, everything is okay. Tell the others, all right?"

He nodded. "We'll see you soon, then."

From across the room, she heard Doom say, "THEY WILL HAVE PERMISSION TO LAND, AND A CAR WILL BE WAITING TO BRING THEM TO THE CASTLE."

She passed on the message. Clint's face screwed up for a moment before he said, "Let me wake Tony." He disappeared from the screen.

A few moments later, an obviously sleep-rumpled Tony was sitting in front of the camera, with an equally sleep-rumpled Steve leaning over his shoulder. "Hey, Doll," Steve greeted her. "Clint tells us things are okay on your end?"

Darcy nodded. "Everything is okay. He didn't actually mean to grab me - apparently someone who works for him made a mistake. It's all right. He's making me breakfast."

Tony blinked blearily at her. "Victor von Doom is making you breakfast."

Darcy sighed. "Why does everyone find it so hard to believe? He has to eat, too, you know! He's a person!" And then she realized that she was defending  _Victor von Doom_ to  _the Avengers_ and briefly wondered where the hell her life had gone off the skids.

Steve's eyebrows climbed up toward his hairline, but he said simply, "Of course he does, Darce. That was never in question."

Darcy grunted softly. "Anyway, he said he's going to arrange clearance for the jet to land, and a car to bring you all up to the castle, if you want it."

Steve and Tony exchanged a look. Finally, Tony shrugged, and Steve said, "We would really appreciate that. Will you thank him for us?"

"Sure," she replied.

"FOOD," Doom said.

Darcy's stomach rumbled again, loudly enough that Steve and Tony both chuckled. She flushed, but faked it off. "I'm going to go and eat," she said. "See you guys in about an hour."

"We'll see you soon, Darce," Steve agreed.

Darcy shut off the active feed, set the Kindle on a nearby end table, and unfolded herself from the floor. Sure enough, there was a plate full of ham and cheese omelet sitting on the island counter, a fork and a napkin and a tall glass of milk sitting beside it. She slid onto the barstool in front of the plate and picked up her fork. "Thank you," she said softly, digging in.

"YOU ARE WELCOME," he replied, dropping the pan into the sink. "DOOM USED A LOCAL CHEESE THAT YOU HAVE PROBABLY NEVER HAD BEFORE; HE HOPES THAT YOU LIKE IT." He leaned against the opposite counter and watched her eat. He was quiet for a moment before speaking again. "WILL YOU TELL DOOM ABOUT YOURSELF?"

She swallowed a bite and nodded. "Sure. Um." She considered where to begin. "Well, I'm twenty-seven, which I guess you probably know. I was born and raised in Dayton, Ohio. I'm an only child. My dad owns a garage and my mom is a school secretary. I went to Culver University for political science." She paused, blushing. "I, um... I kind of... picked it because of you."

He blinked. "IS THAT A GOOD THING OR A BAD THING?"

"I'm not sure, honestly," she admitted. "I mean..." She paused, chewing a bite of omelet as she considered. "I guess it's a good thing? Because I kind of figured if I got into politics, it would put me in a better position to meet you. But on the other hand, I never really gave much thought to any other career goals or tracks, so that might not be such a good thing, but it's not on you. It's on me."

He nodded. "GO ON," he encouraged her.

She smiled. "Well, so, until my senior year I guess I was pretty average. But that's when I realized I hadn't done enough science credits; I was six hours short of the requirement. And I'm not really big on science; formaldehyde gives me a headache, and botany's boring. So I talked to my advisor, and he said I could also get the credits by doing an internship with a scientist. In retrospect, I think it might have been a setup, because Jane - that would be Dr. Jane Foster, she's an astrophysicist - needed an intern, but none of the science students would go near her because she'd gotten a reputation for being a crackpot."

"DOOM IS FAMILIAR WITH HER.  _AND_ HER PRE-THOR REPUTATION."

Darcy nodded. "So, yeah, so I was the only applicant, and I got the job, so out to New Mexico I went - just in time for Thor."

Doom nodded, understanding. "YES, THIS MAKES SENSE," he said. "DOOM SEES THE STORY QUITE CLEARLY NOW. THIS IS HOW YOU CAME TO BE INVOLVED WITH THE AVENGERS."

"Got it in one," Darcy replied. "Once you get that kind of crazy stuck to you, it doesn't come off." She grinned.

At that, he laughed out loud. "INDEED!"

She finished off her omelet and the last of her milk, and he took her plate and cup, rinsing them off but leaving them in the sink. Then he took her hand and drew her across the room to sit on a comfortably squishy leather couch. He took her hands in his, holding them gently despite the metallic armor. "DOOM IS VERY SORRY FOR THE CIRCUMSTANCES UNDER WHICH YOU CAME TO BE HERE, BUT NOT AT ALL SORRY TO HAVE FINALLY FOUND YOU. AND DOOM UNDERSTANDS THAT YOU WILL OF COURSE WISH TO GO HOME AS SOON AS POSSIBLE, AND HE WILL NOT HOLD YOU HERE AGAINST YOUR WILL. BUT PERHAPS HE MIGHT CALL UPON YOU IN NEW YORK?"

"Yeah," she said, feeling her lips curl up into a smile. "I'd like that."

"EXCELLENT," he said. "IT IS DECIDED. THERE IS BUSINESS WHICH DOOM MUST COMPLETE HERE IN LATVERIA, BUT ONCE THAT IS DONE, HE WILL COME TO NEW YORK." He ran his thumbs across the backs of her fingers. "DOOM IS AWARE THAT MANY YOUNG MEN THINK THAT THEIR SOUL MATES ARE... PERHAPS A KIND PHRASE IS, 'FOREGONE CONCLUSIONS'? DOOM DOES NOT THINK THIS WAY. DESPITE THE WORDS UPON YOUR SKIN AND MINE, WE ARE STILL ADULT INDIVIDUALS WHO THINK FOR OURSELVES, AND DOOM UNDERSTANDS THIS."

He paused, clearly considering both her and his next words. "DOOM IS ALSO AWARE THAT HE HAS A CERTAIN REPUTATION INTERNATIONALLY. THAT IT WILL TAKE TIME FOR YOU TO COME TO KNOW DOOM AS HE IS, AND NOT AS HOW HE IS DESCRIBED BY THE LIKES OF CNN. DOOM IS... GRATEFUL FOR THE OPPORTUNITY."

Darcy blinked, parsing that statement, and then said, "Well, of course I'm not going to judge you by what they say about you on TV. Most of them are lying for ratings anyway."

He chuckled. "THANK YOU," he said. "NOW, DOOM CAN TELL BY LOOKING AT YOU THAT YOU ARE EXHAUSTED, AND YOU HAVE ANOTHER LONG FLIGHT AHEAD OF YOU. YOU SHOULD HAVE A NAP BEFORE YOUR FRIENDS ARRIVE. COME." He stood, waited for her to collect her things, and then led her up the central staircase. The next floor up was divided in half by a plaster wall; he opened the door to the left and led her into an opulently appointed bedroom. "THIS ROOM WILL BE YOURS," he told her. "THERE IS A BATH THROUGH THAT DOOR." He paused, and then he added, "DOOM HOPES THAT YOU WILL COME TO USE THIS ROOM AS OFTEN AS YOU LIKE."

She smiled up at him; she couldn't help it. "Thank you," she said softly. "I'm sure I will."

He nodded. "DOOM WILL WAKE YOU WHEN YOUR FRIENDS ARRIVE." He stepped back and gave her an elaborate bow, then turned and left the room, pulling the door closed quietly behind him.

Darcy took a moment to look around the room. Like the downstairs, it was paneled in rich golden wood and the floor was covered in a thick, squishy, white rug. The room was dominated by a massive, ornately carved four-poster bed with actual curtains that was probably big enough to sleep five people who didn't even like each other very much. Under the huge windows on the left side of the room sat a sturdy and yet somehow also delicate writing desk and chair; the inner wall was lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and there was another squashy-looking leather couch on the right hand wall, with a reading lamp that stood at one end.

She peeked into the bathroom; clean, fluffy towels waited on the countertop beside a new toothbrush still in the packaging and a fresh tube of toothpaste. The fixtures were all marble, and the glass-walled shower was big enough to hold a small orgy in. She stood there for a moment, shaking her head slowly, and then stepped back out into the main bedroom. She dug out her iPod, activated the camera app, and began taking pictures of absolutely everything.

Once she was done, she tossed it back into her bag, kicked her shoes off, shucked her pants, and climbed into that massive bed. It was like climbing onto a cloud, and she let out a soft groan before her eyes slid shut. The morning sunlight didn't even bother her; she rolled onto her stomach, wrapped her arms around the pillow, and was asleep within seconds.

The next thing she knew - and it could have been minutes or hours later - a warm hand was lying on her back and a soft voice was whispering, "Darcy, wake up."

She groaned, burying her head into the pillow and trying to ignore it, but it wouldn't go away, and after a moment, she recognized the voice as Natasha's. She groaned again, blinking her eyes open slowly, and lifted her head, struggling to focus on the redhead who stood beside the bed. "Nat?" she managed.

"Yes," Natasha replied. "Wake up."

"Ugh." Darcy dropped her head onto the pillow again, but lifted one hand to scrub at her face. "Fuck air travel."

Natasha laughed softly. "Jet lag is a terrible, terrible thing," she said. Then she forcibly pulled Darcy into a sitting position. "Up you get. Come on. Talk to me. Tell me how we ended up here."

"Oh, God," Darcy whined, putting her face in her hands. "He snatched me off the fucking street in broad daylight, Nat. He was parked just up from the Baxter Building in a van. I said goodbye to Johnny and he went back inside, and I started up the street, and the next thing I knew, I was in a fucking van, strapped to a gurney." She rubbed at her eyes again. "On the bright side - if that's the right way to put it - he wasn't actually after me. He was after Sue Storm again." She rolled her eyes. "That's going to have to stop; I might get jealous about my soul mate constantly abducting another woman."

Natasha grinned. "That sounds effective," she said. "Come on, now. Go and splash some water on your face. The boys are all downstairs with your new beau; I can't imagine what kind of entertainment we're missing."

Darcy pushed herself out of the bed. "My money's on Doom," she said. "I have the feeling he's possessive, but also sensitive about it. If Tony pushes the wrong buttons, Doom'll put him through one of those plate glass windows."

"No bet," Natasha agreed. "Now hurry, before we miss it."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYS  
> SERIOUSLY  
> YOU'RE MAKING ME BLUSH AND STUFF

After getting herself put back together, Darcy followed Natasha back down the stairs to the main room. The other Avengers were all sitting around the room: Steve and Tony were on the couch, Clint was perched on one of the stools at the kitchen counter, and Thor was studying the view out the window. Doom himself was leaning against the wall beside the bookshelf, and if he hadn't been wearing the mask, Darcy would have sworn he'd lit up when she entered the room. As it was, he straightened and took a couple of steps toward her. "YOU SLEPT WELL?" he asked.

"I did, thank you," she said. "That's a really great bed."

"EXCELLENT." He paused, and did an awkward move that, if he had been any other guy, Darcy would have called shuffling his feet. "YOUR FRIENDS HAVE ARRIVED TO TAKE YOU HOME."

"So I see," Darcy replied, glancing around at them. "Hi, guys."

Tony and Steve both nodded. Clint actually had the nerve to wave at her from across the room. Thor, on the other hand, had no compunctions about stepping up and speaking his mind. "Little sister," he said, striding over to take her hands and give her a quick visual check-over. "You are well?"

"I'm fine, Thor, I promise," she told him, giving him a smile. "Really. No harm done."

"My Jane was most distressed to learn that you had been taken," he said, his tone slightly repressive. "As were Johnny and Bucky."

Darcy blinked. "Bucky was worried about me?" she asked, looking back and forth between Thor and Steve.

"Sure he was, Darce," Steve replied. "He likes you."

"Aww, that's so sweet." Darcy smiled. "You called and told him I was okay, right?"

"Well, we told him where you were," Steve hedged. "I... might have left it to Johnny to explain the nuances of the situation."

Darcy covered her eyes with her hands. "There's no possible way in which that could have been a worse idea."

"Certainly there is," Thor contradicted her. "They could have asked me to do it."

Darcy looked up at him in surprise. "What? But you don't even know him."

There was a low rumble of thunder from outside the window. "I know enough," he replied. "I know that this man sent his underling to abduct a woman from her home, regardless of the outcome. I know that you were placed in danger because of the chemical agent that same underling used to subdue you. I know that you were frightened and far from anyone who could aid you, and I know that you could have come to much greater harm than you did. So I know enough, little sister, to say to you that the only reason this man lives is because he is your soul mate, and that means that regardless of his actions, there must be something within him that is not wholly foul and wretched."

There was a very long silence when Thor stopped speaking. It was finally broken by Tony awkwardly clearing his throat. "Well," the engineer said. "That was... direct."

"INDEED," Doom agreed. He studied Thor for a moment before speaking again. "YOU HAVE DOOM'S WORD, GOD OF THUNDER, THAT SHE WILL COME TO NO HARM AT DOOM'S HANDS. WILL THAT SUFFICE FOR NOW?"

Thor studied Doom in return before nodding. "For now," he said simply.

"Okay," Tony said, clapping his hands together and then rising. "Well, now that everyone's satisfied, I think we have a plane to catch."

"Oh," Darcy said, looking from Tony to Doom and back again with an almost comical expression of dismay. "Already?"

Steve looked apologetic, like he totally understood how she felt and was sympathetic to her. "We need to be back in New York," he explained. "In case of emergency."

Darcy sighed. "Oh, yeah."

Doom reached out and laid a hand on the small of her back. "IT WILL NOT BE LONG BEFORE DOOM COMES TO YOU," he said in a voice that was obviously meant to be soft and was nothing of the sort.

She smiled up at him. "I'm holding you to that," she said simply.

~*~

The jet lag from her back-to-back trips across the Atlantic kept Darcy in bed for nearly a solid two days; when she finally emerged, she wandered around the Tower like a zombie for another day before her personality finally rebooted. The letter came the next day.

Darcy didn't get a lot of mail; that was a side-effect of not having a lot of bills. So when a letter came from her student loan servicer, she opened it immediately, horror stories about screwed up student loans ringing in her head. She pulled out the single sheet of paper inside the envelope and began to read. Ten minutes later, when Steve wandered through, she was sitting on the couch in the common room, staring blankly at the letter in her hands.

He said her name twice, but she didn't respond, so he walked over and snapped his fingers a few times right in front of her eyes. She blinked, coming back to herself, and looked up at him. He frowned. "You okay?"

She looked back down at the letter, then up at him. She held it out to him. He took it and read it. Then he said, "Okay, so you have a zero balance on - what is this, school loans?"

"Yeah," she said.

"So this is... good, right? Your schooling's all paid off. What's with the blank face?"

"Last month I still owed almost thirty thousand dollars."

He blinked. "Seriously?"

"Seriously." She nodded. "So either there's been a massive clerical fuckup, or someone paid off all my student loans. And I think we can guess who that might have been."

"Did you check with Tony?"

Darcy raised her voice just a bit. "Hey, JARVIS? Do you happen to know if Tony randomly decided to pay off all my student loans?"

"While that does sound like something he would do," JARVIS admitted, "in this case, he did not."

"That answers that question," Steve said. He sat down on the couch beside her. "So... how do you feel about this?"

"Well, on one hand, I'm kind of elated," she admitted. "Because not having to stick half my paycheck into those things every month is going to be really nice. But on the other hand, that's a lot of money and... and I'm not sure how I feel about..."

"Being beholden?" Steve suggested.

She nodded. "I mean... I don't  _think_ he would? But then again... I don't  _actually_ know him that well. He was really nice to me while I was there, but what if that was just a front? What if he really is as bad as they claim he is?"

Steve considered this for a moment. Finally he took a deep breath. "I don't know," he finally said. "I don't have all the answers for you. I wish I did. But I'll tell you something my Ma once told me. She said God wouldn't match up an angel and a devil. Do you see what I'm saying? If you're matched to somebody, it's because whoever they are on the inside matches whoever you are on the inside. And I don't know him, but I know you." He gave her a smile. "Okay?"

She thought about that for a second, and then finally nodded. "Okay," she said softly.

He reached up and rested one big hand on her shoulder, squeezing warmly. Then he stood. "Come on."

She stood with him, raising an eyebrow. "Where are we going?"

"Dinner," he said. "Bucky and I are meeting Johnny. You're coming with us."

"Oh, no, I don't want to... interrupt."

"You're not interrupting," he assured her. "It's just a casual dinner with me, my soul mate, and my boyfriend." He grinned.

She rolled her eyes. "You're awful," she advised him. "Everyone who thinks you're some kind of paragon of American virtue or something needs to be re-educated because you are officially awful." She folded up the letter and stuffed it back in its envelope. "Let me go change clothes."

"You look fine."

"No, seriously." She shook her head. "I want to put on different shoes, and to do that I need different pants."

He sighed. "Well, don't take too long. And just wear jeans; we're not going anywhere fancy."

"Okay. Meet you and Bucky in the lobby in ten?"

He nodded. "That works. I'll let Johnny know you're coming, in case he gets there first."

~*~

Dinner with Steve, Johnny, and Bucky turned out to be nothing short of an adventure. Johnny had played one of his many celebrity cards and gotten the three of them a reservation at one of the trendiest of the currently-trendy restaurants in Manhattan, and Darcy would have been incredibly embarrassed about showing up in jeans, Converse, and an oversized sweater if it hadn't been for the fact that she was standing between the Human Torch (who was also in jeans and a hockey jersey) and Captain America (who was in jeans and a green-and-white striped rugby shirt) with the Winter Soldier (also in jeans and a plain blue polo) standing behind her, his metal hand resting on her left shoulder as he tried not to look nervous about the crowd.

The reservation was only for three, and since the restaurant was teppanyaki, that meant three seats at the grill, not a table. Fortunately, it wasn't a problem; when the maître d' realized that he was looking at Captain America and the Human Torch, he was more than happy to find an extra seat for Darcy, assuring them all over and over that it was absolutely no trouble at all.

Steve grimaced as they finally sat down. "I really hate doing that," he muttered.

"What else is celebrity for?" Johnny replied easily, leaning around Darcy to smirk at him.

"Oh, I don't know," Steve drawled in the tone of a man who's had this conversation before. "Drawing attention to useful causes, speaking out against injustice?"

Johnny rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, sure, that's great, but you can't be a crusading force for good twenty-four-seven. Sometimes you need to be a crusading force for beef and broccoli and a Japanese chef who does tricks while he cooks your food."

Darcy shook her head. "You know, Johnny, sometimes you open your mouth and I remember that there's a terrible, terrible person living inside you."

"Only sometimes?" he replied, grinning broadly.

Bucky gave a rusty chuckle from Steve's other side. "He was tailor made for you, wasn't he, Stevie?"

"I'm starting to think he's my  _punishment_ ," Steve moaned, folding his arms on the countertop and dropping his head down to rest on them.

Darcy reached out and ruffled the hair on the back of his head. "Don't take it so hard," she said. "I'm sure there's a terrible, terrible person living deep inside of you, too."

"There is," Bucky assured her. "And he farts a lot."

~*~

When they left the restaurant, they walked almost directly into a cloud of paparazzi. Darcy groaned softly at the first popping flashbulbs, and rolled her eyes at the first shouted question. "Johnny! Johnny, is it true that you and Captain America are soul mates?"

And then the second question, as Johnny tried to ignore them and walk past: "Captain, do you care to comment on the physical resemblance between yourself and Johnny? I mean, it's weird, right?"

But the third question opened the floodgates, when a voice from the thickest part of the crowd called out, "Johnny, is it true that Captain America is really your biological grandfather and your relationship is incestuous?" At that, the crowd of vultures swarmed in close, and Darcy was shoved from behind. She tripped on a broken bit of sidewalk and stumbled forward, and another shove sent her flying.

She never hit the ground; just as she squeezed her eyes shut and braced for impact, she found herself swooped up, bridal-style, into a strong pair of arms. She opened her eyes in shock, and found herself being carried by a very,  _very_ angry-looking Winter Soldier. He gave her a slight, crooked smile and she grinned back, tossing her arms around his neck, even as he began to push through the crowd of assholes, with Steve in front of him and Johnny behind him.

A moment later, there was another rescue on the scene: two mounted police officers rounded the corner and Steve flagged them down for help. They dispersed the photographers quickly, and Bucky gently set Darcy back on her feet. "You okay?" he asked.

"I'm good," she answered. Then she tiptoed and pressed a kiss to his stubbly cheek. "My hero."

He flushed bright red, and she cackled at him, throwing her arms around his waist and giving him a hug. He ruffled her hair in response, tossing his human arm around her shoulders. "Come on, you buncha troublemakers," he said. "Let's get outta here."

They ended up back at the Tower, because it was closer than the Baxter Building, and Bucky had challenged Johnny to a game of Mario Kart (because Steve refused to play him, after Darcy's warning that Mario Kart was a relationship killer). Darcy left the boys in the common room with hugs all around and headed to her own little apartment. After kicking off her shoes and shimmying out of her pants, she dropped onto her sofa and grabbed her laptop to check Tumblr.

A new email alert diverted her attention; she opened it up and found that it was from an unfamiliar sender with a Latverian extension on the email address. "Only one person  _that_ could be," she muttered to herself, and opened it. 

_Good evening,_ it read.  _Doom hopes that you have received his gift in good health and spirits, and that you are recovered from the stress of your travels. He hopes to speak with you soon, but of course the time difference may make this difficult. Still, he assumes that you have a Skype account, as so many young people do, and so provides you here forthwith, his user name._

She blinked. Of course it was VONDOOM. Why wouldn't it be? Shaking her head slightly, she read on.

_Doom will be online at six o'clock a.m. Latveria time, which is eleven p.m. in New York. If this is not too late, Doom will hope to speak to you then. If it is too late, or otherwise inconvenient, then you need merely reply with a time that is more convenient for you, and Doom will accommodate you._

_Yours most sincerely,_

_Victor von Doom._

_He even does it in email,_ Darcy thought, snorting slightly at his third-person references to himself. She checked the clock. It was just past ten. She took a deep breath and sent a reply letting him know that she had gotten his gift, and telling him that an eleven o'clock Skype date would be just fine. Then she set the laptop aside and hurried into the bathroom to double check her makeup and hair.

~*~

When she sat down on the couch again, her hair was perfect and her makeup was light but flattering. She had also changed out the oversized sweater she'd been wearing, replacing it with a simple scoop necked top that went with the khaki shorts she'd pulled on in lieu of her jeans. She'd checked herself out carefully in the mirror; she knew she looked good, but she also wanted to look casual and chill, and very much not as if she'd spent the last forty-five minutes quietly freaking out.

She wondered if other people freaked out this much about their soul mates and determined to ask someone at her earliest convenience. It occurred to her that she probably ought to call her mother. Sighing, she rubbed at her forehead for a moment before reaching out and grabbing the laptop. She flipped it open and logged into Skype, then put in Doom's username. And then she waited.

He must have been sitting at his computer as well; in less than a minute, she had Victor von Doom on her computer screen. She smiled. "Hey," she said.

"HELLO," he greeted her, his booming shout muffled a bit through the computer's speaker. "DOOM TRUSTS THAT YOU ARE WELL."

"Yeah, big guy, I'm good," she replied. "How about you?"

"DOOM IS WELL. HALF OF THE DAY WAS SPENT DEALING WITH ABSURDITIES AND INANITIES IN THE PARLIAMENT, BUT THAT IS TO BE EXPECTED WHEN IT IS IN SESSION." He sighed. "DOOM WOULD ABOLISH IT COMPLETELY, BUT IT SERVES A PURPOSE."

Darcy canted her head slightly. "And what purpose would that be?"

"IT HANDLES THE MINUTIAE," he explained. "WITHOUT IT, ALL OF THE THE DAY-TO-DAY MUNDANITIES OF RULING WOULD FALL UPON DOOM'S SHOULDERS. TRAFFIC LAWS AND TAX CODES AND THE LIKE. WITH THE PARLIAMENT IN PLACE, DOOM MAY FOCUS ON THE IMPORTANT THINGS. FOR EXAMPLE, JUST NOW, THERE IS NEED FOR A NEW FACTORY. IF THE PLACEMENT OF THE FACTORY WERE LEFT UP TO THE PARLIAMENT, THEY WOULD SQUABBLE, BECAUSE THEY ARE ALL ELECTED. CHOICE OF LOCATION WOULD BE DELAYED, AND SO WOULD THE EMPLOYMENT OF THOSE WHO WOULD BUILD IT AND THEN THOSE WHO WOULD WORK INSIDE OF IT. SO INSTEAD, DOOM LOOKS AT THE NUMBERS TO SEE WHERE UNEMPLOYMENT IS HIGHEST, AND WHERE THE BUILDING OF THE FACTORY WOULD DO THE MOST GOOD. IN THIS CASE, IT WILL BE OUTSIDE OF DOOMSBURG."

Darcy nodded. "That makes sense," she said. "You let them do the little stuff and you do the big, important things."

"PRECISELY. IT IS, IN MY OPINION, A FAR MORE STREAMLINED PROCESS THAN THE CUMBERSOME ONE USED IN YOUR OWN COUNTRY."

"And I bet you get a lot more stuff done in a lot less time," Darcy agreed, grinning. "So what was the most absurd thing today?"

He considered the question. "I BELIEVE IT WOULD BE THE SUGGESTION THAT UNIVERSITY STUDENTS SHOULD PAY TUITION TO ATTAIN UNDERGRADUATE DEGREES IN THE LIBERAL ARTS, BASED UPON THE NOTION THAT A LIBERAL ARTS EDUCATION IS SOMEHOW OF LESS VALUE THAN A SCIENCE OR TECHNOLOGY EDUCATION."

Darcy spluttered angrily.

Doom gave a soft hum. "YES, QUITE," he said. "A RIDICULOUS NOTION, AND SECOND ONLY TO THE IDEA THAT A FAMILY'S SUBSISTENCE STIPEND SHOULD BE RAISED OR LOWERED BASED UPON THEIR CHILDREN'S SCHOOL PERFORMANCE FOR UTTER STUPIDITY."

" _Are you fucking kidding me?!_ " Darcy burst out. "What  _asshole_ thought that was a good idea?!"

Doom chuckled. "A PETTY IDIOT FROM SOUTH OF DOOMWOOD," he replied. "REST ASSURED THAT BY THE TIME HE RETURNED HOME TO DOOMWOOD, HE HAD COME TO BETTER UNDERSTAND WHAT IT MEANS TO SERVE FOR THE GOOD OF ALL CITIZENS."

"I certainly hope so," Darcy replied, still feeling grumbly about it. "That's just wrong-headed and stupid."

Doom laughed at that. "YOU SEEM TO HAVE A LEFTIST BENT TO YOUR POLITICS."

"Yeah, pretty much," she agreed. "Like... I feel like I'm probably pretty moderate compared to a lot of Europe, but for the States I'm practically a radical left-wing nutjob, because I feel like people have a right to things like health care and education and, you know, food."

"DOOM VERY MUCH AGREES WITH YOU," Doom said. "BUT THERE ARE ALWAYS THOSE WHO THINK THAT ENOUGH IS NOT ENOUGH."

"That doesn't mean we have to put up with them," Darcy replied tartly. She grinned. "So," she said. She folded her legs yoga-style and rested her elbows on her knees, and her chin on her fists. "You got the Cliff's Notes version of me when I was there. Tell me about you. Something that's not on Wikipedia."

He studied her for a moment before speaking. "DOOM HAS A WEAKNESS FOR STRAWBERRY-RHUBARB PIE."

Darcy felt a huge smile spread across her face. "Seriously? My granny makes the actual best strawberry-rhubarb pie of anyone on the planet. And her recipe is seriously more secret than the inside of Area 51. I'll make sure she makes it when I bring you home."

There was a swift intake of breath from the other end of the line. "YOU... WOULD WISH FOR DOOM TO ACCOMPANY YOU HOME TO YOUR FAMILY?"

"Well, yeah," Darcy said, feeling her smile begin to dim. "Of course I would. You're my soul mate."

"DOOM... HAD NOT THOUGHT OF THAT," he admitted. "DO THEY... APPROVE?"

Darcy shrugged. "I don't think they  _disapprove,_ necessarily," she said. "I mean, they don't really know you, outside of what they see on TV and the news and stuff, you know? My mom worries a lot. Because being Doom's Soul Mate is the kind of thing that puts a girl in a precarious position, if you know what I mean."

"NONE WILL DARE TO HARM THE SOUL MATE OF DOOM," Doom replied, and there was enough menace in his tone that a shiver went up Darcy's spine. "ANYONE WHO DARES SO MUCH AS TO TOUCH A HAIR ON YOUR HEAD WILL FEEL DOOM'S WRATH!" 

"Okay, okay, let's bring it down just a notch," Darcy said, holding up her hands in a placating gesture. "I'm just saying, it's the kind of thing my mom worries about. Moms do that, you know. They worry."

He settled back in his chair, but Darcy wasn't sure if he was calming down or just banking to a low simmer. "WELL," he said finally, "IF YOU WISH FOR DOOM TO ACCOMPANY YOU, THEN DOOM WILL DO SO." He nodded firmly, as if that settled it.

And, Darcy mused, it probably did. She smiled. "Thank you," she said. "But look, don't stress about it, okay? Like, I'm not asking you to come go to Dayton with me tomorrow or something. I think we still need to get to know each other before we throw my crazy family into the mix."

"DOOM AGREES," he assured her. "AND ON THAT TOPIC, DOOM HOPES TO BE IN NEW YORK BY THE END OF NEXT WEEK."

"Oh, good!" Darcy exclaimed. Then she blushed. "I, um... I'm looking forward to you being here. Getting to... to know you and spend time with you and stuff."

"DOOM UNDERSTANDS," Doom said, and his booming voice was somehow gentle despite its volume. "YOU HAVE BEEN WAITING TO MEET DOOM FOR A VERY LONG TIME. DOOM HAS THE SAME FEELING ABOUT YOU, AND IS ANXIOUS TO SPEND MORE TIME IN YOUR COMPANY."

She smiled at him then, reaching out to touch his face on her computer screen. "Yeah," she said softly. "That's it exactly."

He nodded. "IN THE MEANTIME, THIS SKYPE SHALL HAVE TO SUFFICE. IS THIS TIME CONVENIENT FOR YOU TO MAKE REGULAR CALLS IN THE EVENING?"

"Yeah, this works," Darcy said.

"GOOD. WHEN DOOM COMES TO NEW YORK, HE WILL OBTAIN FOR YOU A GOOD PHONE WITH AN INTERNATIONAL CALLING PLAN, SO THAT YOU MAY CALL OR TEXT WHENEVER YOU WISH. UNTIL THEN, THIS WILL DO."

"About that," Darcy said. "I... I don't want you to think you have to buy me things. I... the thing with my loans... I appreciate it. More than you can possibly know. I really, really do. But that was a lot of money, and I don't..." She paused and tried to collect her thoughts, to explain herself better. "I just... I'm interested in  _you_ , not your money. Okay?"

He nodded. "DOOM UNDERSTANDS. BUT DARCY... IT IS DOOM'S HABIT AND PRIVILEGE TO ENSURE THAT THOSE HE CARES ABOUT HAVE ALL THE THINGS THAT THEY MAY NEED IN ORDER TO MAKE THEIR LIVES COMFORTABLE AND PRODUCTIVE AND HAPPY. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" She nodded, and he continued. "SO, PLEASE DO NOT TAKE IT AMISS IF DOOM EXPRESSES HIS APPRECIATION FOR YOU IN CERTAIN WAYS. DOOM HAS, AS HE SAID, BEEN WAITING A VERY LONG TIME FOR YOU." then he added, "BESIDES, YOU CHOSE YOUR COLLEGE PATH FOR DOOM, DID YOU NOT? YOUR EDUCATION WAS A GIFT TO DOOM, AND NOW DOOM HAS GIFTED YOUR EDUCATION TO YOU."

She smiled. "Okay," she murmured.

He nodded again. "DOOM MUST GO; THERE IS WORK TO BE DONE TODAY, IF HE WISHES TO BE IN NEW YORK NEXT WEEK. UNTIL TOMORROW?"

She nodded. "Until tomorrow," she said softly. But she watched the screen until he disconnected first, and then she sat back on the couch, feeling as giddy as a middle schooler with a crush.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so there's, like, idk, some angst or something in this one  
> i don't even know, you guys, like, i try to do these things that are just totally ridiculous and then suddenly there's FEELS and things, what even, like. ugh. can i just. this is awful and i am awful and i'm just really, really sorry that i am subjecting you guys to this because seriously.

The next afternoon, she called her mother.

_"Darcy! It's good to hear from you. How's New York?"_

"Good. How are you and Dad?"

_"We're fine, honey. Nothing new going on here; you know how Dayton is. What about you, though, and all your crazy spandex-wearing friends?"_

Darcy rolled her eyes. "It's still not spandex, Mom." She took a deep breath. "So, um. Something happened that you need to know about."

Her mother could tell that she was serious; her tone changed immediately.  _"What is it, honey?"_

"I, um. Mom, I met him."

There was a very long silence before her mother said,  _"I think maybe we'd better get your father on the phone for this."_

"No, Mom, no, really, it's okay." Darcy sat back on her couch, tossing her feet over the arm rest. "He's actually... surprisingly nice."

_"And how did you meet him?"_ her mother asked.

Darcy grimaced. "He, uh. Well not he, exactly but one of his, um... employees? Sort of accidentally kidnapped me because he thought I was someone else, and took me to Latveria." Darcy had to pull the phone away from her ear as her mother went nuts at top volume; she waited for the screaming to stop before bringing the phone back. "He was very apologetic, Mom!" she defended him. "And he was also very polite. And he paid off my student loans."

_"He did what?!"_

Darcy sighed. "He paid off my student loans. After he put me on a plane back to New York. I got the letter yesterday."

_"Darcy,"_ her mother said,  _"are you actually considering pursuing a relationship with... with that man?"_

"Well, yeah," Darcy replied. "I mean, he is my soul mate, Mom. And he... I think there's more to him than what we know about him. More than what they say on TV and stuff. We've talked a little bit about, like, his governing policies and things, and I think he really has his people's best interests at heart. And we actually agree on a lot of stuff, politically speaking. And he..." She paused, then shrugged. "Like I said, he was really nice to me while I was there. I... kind of like him. And I think he kind of likes me, too."

Her mother was quiet for a very long time before she said,  _"I hope you know what you're doing, Darcy-girl. I really do. Because this could end very, very poorly."_

"I know," Darcy assured her. "But I think it's going to be okay."

Her mother sighed.  _"I sure hope you're right."_

~*~

The worst cliché in the literary world, in Darcy's opinion, was the one about the girl who had a Thing For Bad Boys. They were almost always Unfortunate Girls With No Soul Marks (or ones whose soul mate had died in childhood), and almost uniformly obsessed with guys who were total trouble: petty criminals, mostly, but sometimes borderline super-villains. The guys usually treated them like shit, there were almost always questionable consent issues, and the girls were usually idiots. Darcy hated them.

Which was why she resented the  _hell_ out of almost everyone she lived with acting like she was one of them.

First it was Stark, and she could take asshole behavior from Stark, because that was all Stark knew how to do - to the point that it was probably a form of affection. But then it was Clint, and the smirk on his face when he said  _Doom, Darcy? Really?_ made her want to punch him. Jane was even worse, because Jane kept trying to big-sister her while couching everything in the kind of soft, gentle tones that Darcy would expect from a child therapist, not a friend. Thor, having said his piece to Doom's face, said nothing else to Darcy about it. 

Bucky at least was nice about it; he'd gotten chapter and verse from Johnny and Sue, but had been kind enough to come to Darcy and ask her for her own take on things. And he'd told her everything that Reed Richards had said, but Darcy had explained to Bucky that taking Reed Richards's word for anything having to do with Victor von Doom was a lot like asking Rush Limbaugh for a character reference on President Obama.

Not that she was taking any shit from Reed Richards on the matter; he tried to bring it up once, a few days after Darcy's return from Latveria, and she'd shut him down quickly. "Richards, the whole  _world_ knows how you feel about Doom," she'd said simply. "I don't need or want to hear it." Sue Storm had looked troubled, but when Reed would have persisted, Sue took him across the room and said something very quietly that made him stop. Darcy appreciated that, though she didn't care for the expressions of concern that went with it.

Neither Bruce nor Natasha said anything at all. But then, Bruce was famous for having no opinion on anything if he could help it, and Darcy had a feeling that Natasha knew more about Doom than the average person living in the U.S. After all, she got around a lot as a spy for SHIELD, and had done so even more before she came to SHIELD. In fact, it was entirely possible that Natasha was not surprised in the least.

But what was really making Darcy mad was Steve, who shook his head and gave her a  _Captain America Is Disappointed In You_ sort of look every time the topic of her soul mate came up - which, unfortunately, was at least once a day, since Doom had  _not_ gotten the message about not sending gifts. Since paying off her student loans, he'd sent (among other things) a fifty-pound gift basket full of European chocolates, a gorgeous platinum bracelet inset with fire opals, and a fantastic crossbody bag hand-stitched out of ostrich hide and dyed dark green. Steve never said anything, but Darcy felt very much as if she was being judged and found severely wanting, and coming from somebody who had been the next best thing to an older brother to her, it hurt. A lot.

She started spending more time alone in her apartment, but nobody said much of anything to her about it.

Of course, nobody talking to her about it meant that she didn't really have anybody to talk to about things, either. Except Doom himself, to whom she talked almost every night via Skype. She found him surprisingly personable, urbane, and at times genuinely funny, and she wondered if people would still think he was evil if they had the chance to talk to him and see him the way she did.

Of course, she mused, most people wouldn't  _get_ that chance. If she hadn't been his soul mate,  _she_ would never have gotten the chance. Knowing that made her more determined not to squander it.

~*~

Darcy despised Fridays. The sort of vitriolic hatred that was usually reserved for Monday mornings by most people in the Western world, Darcy saved for Fridays. Fridays were  _terrible_ . They were long, they were boring, they were usually light on work, and there was (for Jane's chief lab rat) generally  _nothing to do_ , which meant that Fridays  _dragged on her soul_ like the most metaphysical ball and chain ever invented.

Darcy  _loathed_ Fridays. 

But on the afternoon of one particular Friday, some two weeks after her summary kidnap, just as she was about to switch the lab music over to her  _Friday afternoons should be banned_ playlist, life in the Tower got very interesting - in the Chinese curse sort of way.

First there was the alert from JARVIS about an unidentified small aircraft approaching the Tower at a high velocity. "It may simply be  _passing_ the Tower," he assured Darcy and Jane both, "but safety protocols require a stage one lockdown, just in case." This meant that the lab doors were all locked and the building's outside air vents sealed up. The internal air filtration system kicked on. Darcy was sure that she was imagining the slightly metallic smell of canned air.

"Sure, JARVIS," Darcy said, closing her laptop and sliding it into her backpack. She tossed her iPod and her Kindle into the new bag Doom had sent her, before buckling it and pulling it on. She hoisted the backpack onto her shoulders, then took her phone off the charger and slipped it into her pocket. Across the lab, Jane was doing the same thing with her personal electronics and her backup drives. She tossed one of the tiny USB backups to Darcy, who tucked it into her bra.

By the time their preparations had been made, JARVIS had determined that the small craft was definitely on a direct course to the Tower, and the lockdown had been upgraded to stage two: the elevators were shut off, the Tower's internal weapons systems were activated, and the glass walls of the labs turned opaque. The Avengers had assembled in the common area just inside from Tony's landing pad, since JARVIS had determined that it was the craft's most likely destination.

"JARVIS," Jane said, "can we watch through the security cameras?"

"You may," JARVIS replied, routing the feed to one of the monitors nearest the panic room. "However, if the lockdown rises to stage three, you must retreat to the safe room, regardless of other matters."

"Understood, General," Darcy replied, saluting at the nearest security camera. Then she and Jane grabbed stools and parked themselves in front of the monitor to watch the action.

Tony, Thor and Steve were standing in the center of the room, facing the door, all of them in full armor. Clint was barely visible in the far doorway, his bow at the ready, and Natasha was not visible at all, which meant that she was probably in the nearest doorway with her throwing knives in her hands. The incoming craft could not yet be seen through the eye of that particular camera.

"Hey, JARVIS," Darcy said, "has the Baxter Building been given a heads up? In case it's HYDRA?"

"I have informed them," he replied. "They are on stage one alert, and Johnny is available and prepared to fly Bucky out and to safety if such action should become necessary."

"Good." Darcy let out a long, slow breath. Then she said, "Oh, is that it?"

A small, gray  _thing_ had appeared at the edge of the camera's visibility range; it was clearly aiming directly at the place where the Avengers were standing. JARVIS said, "That is it. It appears to be a very small craft, with space for no more than three individuals inside."

On the screen, Darcy saw Steve's head tilt. "Any markings on the outside, JARVIS?" he asked.

"There appear to be some markings on the hull, Captain," JARVIS replied. "However, I do not have sufficient camera resolution to identify them at this distance."

"I'll be upgrading the external cameras as soon as this is over," Tony said flatly. "That's unacceptable."

There was a long moment of silence before JARVIS spoke again. "I have identified the markings on the outside of the craft. It is the Latverian flag."

"Oh!" Darcy said. "He's early."

"Early?" Jane managed, her tone thready. "Early?"

"Yeah, early. He said he didn't think he'd be able to get here until tomorrow."

On the screen, the tiny craft came closer and closer - close enough that Darcy wondered if he was going to actually crash into the building. It came to a complete and instantaneous stop just above the landing pad, hovered for a moment, and then landed with a solid  _thud_ . The top of the craft retracted, and Doom climbed out of it. He stood with his back to the door for a moment, looking out at the city, and then he turned, his cloak billowing out around him as he headed for the door.

It slid open for him, and on the screen, Darcy and Jane watched as he stopped in the doorway and took in the assembled Avengers. "THIS IS AN INTERESTING WELCOME," he said. "DOOM DID NOT REALIZE THAT VISITORS TO AVENGERS' TOWER WERE ROUTINELY GREETED WITH OPEN HOSTILITY ."

"Visitors?" Tony repeated, his voice incredulous even through the speaker distortion. "Visitors come in through the door downstairs, and they check in with the receptionist."

Doom's head tilted just slightly. "DOOM DOES NOT UNDERSTAND, STARK. WHY HAVE A LANDING PAD IF YOU DO NOT WISH GUESTS TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF ITS PRESENCE?"

Tony choked softly.

Steve sighed, pushing his cowl back. "JARVIS, lift the lockdown and tell Darcy her boyfriend's here, please."

In the lab, Darcy spluttered. "Well, he doesn't have to say it like  _that!_ "

"Like what?" Jane asked.

"Like it's my  _fault_ ," Darcy exclaimed. "Like I  _picked_ this."

"Oh, Darce," Jane murmured, reaching out to touch her friend's arm. "It's not like that. We just... we're worried about you."

Darcy jerked away from her. "You don't have to be so  _judgey_ about it," she snapped. "I'm not some markless idiot who just has a thing for  _bad boys_ or something. You've  _seen_ my mark, you  _know_ it's there. But everybody acts like if you all  _disapprove_ at me hard enough, I'll break up with him. What do you want me to do, Jane? He's my  _soul mate_ ."

She glared at Jane across the desk; Jane fidgeted and looked away. Darcy huffed softly, fighting against the prickle in her nose and behind her eyes that warned her she was about to start crying. She swallowed hard. "You know what? Forget it." She turned and stormed out of the lab, ignoring Jane's voice behind her, calling her name.

She flung herself into the elevator. "Take me up there, JARVIS, please," she muttered, resting her head against the wall and taking deep breaths to calm herself down.

JARVIS complied silently, and a minute later, the elevator doors opened up on the common room. Doom was still standing by the door, though it looked like he'd at least been able to come inside, and the Avengers were all standing around the room, trying to look casual. But Tony hadn't taken his armor off, and Steve's shield was leaning against his leg. Darcy felt that angry prickle build up inside her head again. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed. "You couldn't even let him come in and sit down? You have to stand around and act threatening? What do you think he's gonna do, keep me out past curfew?"

"Darcy - " Steve started, but she was having none of it.

She whirled, pointing a finger at him. "Don't you  _dare,_ Steve Rogers. You think I didn't get your little message? 'Tell Darcy her  _boyfriend's_ here.' Be a little more sarcastic about who my soul mate is, why don't you? That's pretty fucking rich, coming from the  _super-soldier_ who was about to  _beat up_ somebody for  _making fun of his mark_ ."

Steve had the grace to flush at that. Darcy turned her back on him and crossed the room in four quick steps. Doom held out a hand to her and she slipped right past it, sliding her arms around his waist and going in for a full-on hug, just because at that point, she  _needed_ one. He wrapped his arms around her almost automatically, and she closed her eyes for a second, breathing in the metallic scent of his armor. Then she said, very softly, "Let's get out of here, okay?"

"OF COURSE," he rumbled, his voice as low as he could get it behind the mask. "COME, DOOM WILL TAKE YOU TO DINNER." The door behind him slid open, and he guided her out onto the landing pad with a hand at the small of her back. He walked her over to the little aircraft, taking her backpack and placing it safely in the third seat before handing her up into the second, pointing out the safety belt and waiting until she had strapped herself in before climbing into the front seat. The roof of the little craft slid forward and closed up, and a moment later, it lifted off and zipped away from the Tower.

~*~

It turned out that Doom's version of "take you to dinner" actually meant "take you to my massive loft on Park Avenue and have dinner ordered in from a very fancy Midtown steakhouse." Darcy was okay with that; after that little show at the Tower, she really wasn't in the mood to get out and be among people. Being with Doom, though, was oddly soothing. He seemed perfectly content to park himself on a gorgeous antique Victorian settee in his private study, watch her pace, and listen to her rant about the absolute  _assholes_ she was living with.

"Like Tony fucking Stark has any room to complain about what anybody else does with their tech, considering where Stark Industries made its money. His dad helped build the fucking  _A-bomb,_ for fuck's sake, and Tony made  _billions_ profiteering off the wars in the Middle East, and he wants to judge  _you_ because you build Doombots? And okay, I mean, granted, sometimes you  _do things_ with the Doombots that we should maybe at some point talk about because I'm a little uncomfortable with them, but - "

"DOOM WOULD NEVER DO SUCH THINGS WITH HIS BOTS," Doom protested.

She blinked. "No, not  _that_ ," she explained. "I mean, like, rampaging through New York. People could get hurt, and you should probably not do that." She waved a hand. "My  _point_ is that  _Tony Stark_ has no room to judge." She huffed. "And Steve!  _Steve_ , of all people! His soul mate is  _Johnny Storm,_ for fuck's sake."

Doom chuckled softly. "THAT IS... QUITE AN INTERESTING PAIRING, DOOM WILL ADMIT." He sat forward just a bit. "DOOM ADMITS TO A CERTAIN... CURIOSITY ABOUT THEM. ARE THEY...?"

She stopped pacing for a moment and blinked at him. "Oh, are they screwing? No. Steve's in love with somebody else and Johnny's straight. Well, mostly straight. But no. They're platonic."

"OH, WELL," Doom sighed, sitting back again. "DO GO ON."

Darcy sighed softly, her shoulders drooping, and wandered over to flop onto a second settee that faced the first across a spindly-legged coffee table. "Nah," she said softly. "There's no point. Plus, I don't want to spend all night talking about  _them_ ." She rubbed at her temples briefly. "I mean, I get that they're worried about me, and I guess I kind of appreciate that they care? I just wish they'd chill out."

"DOOM WOULD LIKE TO BE SUPPORTIVE, BUT HIS USUAL METHODS IN THESE SITUATIONS INVOLVE VIOLENCE AND THE HEADS OF HIS ENEMIES, AND THAT IS PROBABLY NOT APPROPRIATE AT THIS JUNCTURE." He paused. "ALTHOUGH DOOM WOULD HAPPILY COMMIT VIOLENCE FOR YOU, IF YOU WOULD LIKE."

Darcy laughed. "No, no, it's okay. Believe me, if there's going to be any violence committed over this, it'll be me doing it. No, I just..." She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I just wish they'd trust me."

"IF IT IS ANY CONSOLATION," he offered, "DOOM IS FAIRLY CERTAIN THAT IT IS NOT YOU THEY MISTRUST."

"But it  _is,_ " Darcy replied. "They don't trust me to know whether or not I'm in danger with you. They don't trust me to be able to say no if I decide that you're not someone I want to be with. I'm not even sure they trust me enough to know  _whether_ you're someone I want to be with." She sat back on the couch, resting her head against the cushion, and covered her eyes. "And I'm  _still talking about them._ God. Make me stop. You talk. Tell me something completely unrelated."

"HMM." He considered for a moment, his eyes sharp on her through the holes in his mask. "WELL, DOOM HAS RECENTLY RECEIVED OVERTURES OF PEACE AND FRIENDSHIP FROM VLADIMIR PUTIN. PERHAPS WE COULD DISCUSS THE TERMS HE HAS OFFERED. DOOM FEELS THAT PUTIN'S OFFER OF SPACE IN THE GULAG FOR DOOM'S POLITICAL PRISONERS COULD MAKE FOR ROUSING DINNER CONVERSATION."

Darcy choked on her own spit and nearly hyperventilated as she tried to formulate a response. Doom watched her for a good thirty seconds before beginning to laugh. "YES, DOOM RATHER THOUGHT YOU MIGHT FEEL THAT WAY ABOUT IT."

She stared at him, affronted, for about five seconds before standing, stalking around the coffee table, and whacking him on the shoulder with one fist. "Troll!"

He laughed, pretending to fend her off with his hands. Then he caught her wrists and drew her down to sit next to him. "DOOM HAS SOMETHING HE WISHES TO SHARE WITH YOU," he said. He looked down, watching the way his hands held her own, for a long moment before he said, "THIS... THING THAT IS BETWEEN US, IT MAY GROW INTO SOMETHING DEEP AND TRUE THAT LASTS FOREVER, OR IT MAY NOT, BUT IT CANNOT BEGIN WITHOUT ROOTS IN TRUST, DO YOU AGREE?"

Darcy nodded, wondering what horrible secret he was going to reveal. He studied her for a long moment, and then he said, "THERE ARE FEW IN THIS WORLD WHO KNOW WHAT SECRETS HIDE BEHIND THE MASK OF DOOM. WOULD YOU BE ONE OF THEM?"

She swallowed hard. He was... he was offering to take his mask off. For her. Doom  _never_ took his mask off. He had once been a normal human person, she knew, but there had been some kind of accident and he was said to be horribly scarred. Plus, after all the playing around he did with magic, some people said that kind of thing left marks as well.

But he was her soul mate. And she didn't know for sure if she wanted to be with him forever - but she didn't know for sure that she didn't, either, and at the very least, she wanted to try. So if he wanted to share this with her, she would treat the occasion with the respect it deserved. She nodded once. "I would be honored to have your trust," she said softly.

He nodded once. Then he visibly steeled himself, reaching up to push the hood off his head. Underneath it, his hair was thick, vibrantly black, and long enough to reach his shoulders. Then he reached up and took hold of the mask on either side of his face. She wasn't sure what he did to remove it - it didn't appear to be held on by a strap, so maybe it was spirit gum? She wasn't sure - but it came away in his hands, and slowly he was revealed to her.

She studied his face. It was kind of long and square, with high cheekbones and a nose like a knifeblade. His eyes were wide and green, his lips full, his chin strong and slightly cleft. His skin was darker than she'd expected, not quite olive but close. She wasn't sure she'd call him handsome, but he was definitely striking and also very attractive.

The scarring was not nearly as bad as some people claimed; of course,  _some_ people claimed he had no face left at all behind the mask.  _Some_ people weren't worth listening to in the first place. But it was extensive; he had been burned all across the right side of his face, from his forehead to his neck and below - she couldn't tell how far it went down underneath his collar. It was thickest toward his ear, and shiny in patches where the skin had burned terribly. She said, "It looks as though it hurt pretty badly."

"It was painful," he agreed, and without his mask his voice was vibrant, though ordinary. "Pain can sometimes be a great teacher."

"Or an awful one," Darcy rebutted. She bit her lip for a moment, then said, "I'm glad you didn't die."

He smiled slightly, and she found herself loving the little crinkle around his eyes. "So am I," he admitted. He leaned over and set the mask aside on the coffee table, then sat back, watching her. "It does not trouble you?"

"Should it?" she asked. "It's just a scar. I mean, it's a bad scar, which bothers me because I know how it must have hurt awfully, but it's not like it's something I can catch. And I have scars, too."

He raised an eyebrow. "Have you, then?"

"Sure," She said. She held out her left hand. "There's one; one of my high school friends had an African Grey parrot and it tried to take my finger off."

He took her hand and examined the scar, running his thumb across it. "Nasty creatures," he said.

"Birds are not my favorite," Darcy agreed. Then she stood up, turning her back slightly and pulling the right leg of her jeans up to her knee, baring her calf. "And here's another one. I was twelve, and I got hit by a car while I was riding my bicycle. I had to have thirty-two stitches. You can still see some of the little dots."

"So you can," he murmured, running a finger down the thin white line.

She turned back around and tugged the hem of her shirt up, baring her stomach and pointing out another mark on the right of her navel. "And here's another one from when I had to have my appendix out when I was sixteen." She looked up at him. "Does it bother you that I have scars?"

"Of course not," he replied.

"Well, then," she said, dropping her shirt and sliding back down onto the sofa. "Yours don't bother me, either." She smiled at him.

He smiled back. "All right, then," he said.

There was a tap on the door. "Lord Doom," said a muffled voice. "Dinner has arrived."

"Excellent," Doom said. He stood and offered her his arm. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving," Darcy admitted, standing up and wrapping her hand around his elbow.

"Then let us dine," he said, and led her out of the study and down the hall toward the dining room. The mask stayed behind on the coffee table.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOH OOH  
> SO OKAY  
> IN THIS CHAPTER DARCY AND DOOM TALK POLITICS  
> AND LIKE  
> IDK IF YOU GUYS KNOW THIS OR NOT BUT I AM A HARDCORE RADICAL LEFTIST SO LIKE  
> IF RADICAL LEFTIST POLITICS BOTHER YOU CONSIDER THIS YOUR WARNING THAT IDGAF

"You know," Darcy said sometime later, after dinner and a couple of glasses of wine, "I'm not, like... scared of you or anything."

Doom cocked an eyebrow at her. "No?"

"No. Not really. In the interest of full disclosure I will admit that I was, a little bit, at first. But I'm not now." She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table and grinning at him. "Because here's the thing," she said. "I may work on the side of the angels, but I could totally rock as a supervillain."

He sat back in his chair, sipping from his own glass and smirking just a bit. "You think so?"

"Oh, I know so," she replied. "I would make a  _fantastic_ iron-fisted dictator." She pointed a finger at him. "Not only could I make my every whim law, but I could make people  _like it._ "

"And how, pray tell, would you do that?"

"Simple," Darcy replied. "You give the people what they want. Look, the whole purpose of a government is to provide for the common good, right? Establish justice, ensure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty blah blah blah. Right?"

Doom nodded. Darcy continued. "So you  _do that_ . You establish justice: set up a court system with laws that are fair and just, and make sure that  _everybody_ follows them, no matter how rich or poor. That's important; you can't play favorites with the rich people, or the poor will end up revolting.” She cocked an eyebrow at him, and he nodded in understanding, so she went on. “Provide for the common defense: you establish an army, whether it's a citizen-conscript setup like they do in Israel, a volunteer force like here in the U.S., or even a super-high-tech army of terrifying killer robots like what you have. The citizenry needs to feel safe. And you also need a police force, for the whole domestic tranquility thing, which also goes hand in hand with the justice part. Once you have those things set up, then you look at the general welfare. You focus on education, health care, jobs. You make the required minimum of education free or cheaply available - so, for example, in the U.S. in the 1940s, you make sure that there are public high schools that everyone can attend. Or now that everything's requiring a bachelor degree, you make public universities free or very low cost. You set up a system of universal health care so that everyone can see a doctor. You create subsistence housing so that no one has to go homeless. And sure, those things cost money, but that's what a fair and balanced taxation system is for."

"How is this different from any modern European democracy?" he asked.

"For one thing, it's not a democracy," Darcy replied. "You don't  _ask_ people what they want. You  _tell_ them what they're getting. And if they don't like it, they can leave. And if they want to cause problems, well, that's against the law, and the justice system deals with them." She shrugged. "I mean, I suppose you can have a suggestion box if you want one, but then you have to pretend to actually care what the citizens think, and if you're going to do that, you might as well go ahead and rig up some kind of system of electoral representation."

"Such as a parliament," Doom suggested.

"Exactly," Darcy said, pointing a finger at him. "And I suppose it works to keep the plebs happy; they feel like they have a voice in the governmental process. Even if it's not a very important one. Actually..." Her voice trailed off, her eyes fixing on a distant point as she considered the matter. "It might even work better if you're completely up front about just how much power the parliament  _doesn't_ actually have. Because then at least if people  _are_ voting, they know what they can and can't affect. And it's not like here in the U.S. where people are led to believe that they have the power to affect everything with their vote, when nothing could in fact be further from the truth."

He cocked his head at her. "So cynical about the process!" he exclaimed. "I thought you were a politics major."

"How do you think I got so cynical about the process?" she retorted.

Doom laughed. "I see!" he said. "So you would be the ultimate socialist dictator?"

Darcy nodded once, firmly. "And people would love it because, look, once you know for a fact that your basic subsistence is going to be covered no matter what, that a setback at work or a sudden illness isn't going to suddenly end with you and your family on the street, suddenly you have the ability to do all of those things that you really wanted to do. Want to become a painter? Paint! Want to become a writer? Write! Want to develop fancy new tech out of, I don't know, LEGO Mindstorms? Go for it! You know? It's like... if you make sure that there's a safety net, people feel like they can try and take the risk, because if they should fail, they and their families aren't going to die."

"And what of those who would take advantage of the system? Who would merely laze about all the day, watching television?"

Darcy shrugged. "You're going to have people like that no matter what. So if Joe Q decides he wants to just lie around and collect subsistence, fine - but he doesn't get luxuries. He doesn't get television, he doesn't get Internet. He gets food and housing. That's it. If he wants television, he can find someone to let him come and watch it at their house. If he wants Internet, he can go to the library and sign up to use a public computer for an hour. If he wants those extras, he's going to have to go out and get a job to pay for them. And if he doesn't have any grand ambitions to be the next Da Vinci, fine. He can be a plumber or an electrician or the guy that hands you your bag at the drive thru and glares at you while he says to have a nice day."

Doom nodded. "And when this individual decides he's angry because you don't provide him television, then what?"

"Then he can either shut up or get out. And if he tries to start agitating? That's when the  _evil_ part of 'evil dictator' becomes relevant." She grinned. "I'm going to need a dungeon."

He studied her with narrowed eyes. "I think you're going to need a supervillain code name," he replied.

"I already have one," she assured him, a slightly smug grin on her face.

He grinned back. "May I know what it is?"

She held up her hands in a dramatic pose. "The Dark Lady Claw," she said. "And my costume is going to be all dark robes, with metallic arms like Doctor Claw from the  _Inspector Gadget_ cartoon. And also a cat."

Doom grinned widely at that. "I think," he said, "that this could be arranged. Your avenging friends might not approve, though."

Darcy drained her wineglass. "Joke 'em if they can't take a fuck," she said flatly. "I've never lived my life according to what people approved of before, and I'm damn sure not gonna start now." She rested her arms on the table, leaning forward a bit and studying him seriously. "Here's the thing," she said. "You're  _my_ soul mate, not theirs. And I'm yours, not any of theirs. So what happens between us? That's between  _us._ Whether we end up together or whether we don't, or whether we end up being supervillain BFFs or I convince you to switch sides, or any of that, that's not about them, and it's not their business, and if they can't handle that, then I guess I'll have to find new friends."

He studied her for a long moment. "I think," he said finally, "that I should very much like to kiss you right now."

She studied him back before giving him a slow smile. "Bring it on," she said.

He stood up; so did she. He came around the table and she turned to face him, throwing her shoulders back and straightening up as much as she could. Not that it mattered; he still had nearly twelve inches on her. He smiled down at her, and she smiled back. His left hand lifted to cradle her jaw, and she covered that hand with her own. Slowly, giving her time to back away if she wanted to, he leaned down toward her.

She tiptoed and met him halfway, slanting her lips across his, her other hand coming up to cup the back of his head, her fingers sliding into his thick hair. His lips were warm and firm, and pressed against her first tentatively, and then with more confidence when she didn't pull away. His other hand slipped around her waist, and her lips parted under his, the very tip of her tongue sneaking out to gently brush his mouth.

He gave a low growl and pulled her up tight against him, his tongue coming out to dance with hers, and she rewarded him with a soft whimper, both of her arms coming up now to wrap around his neck. When he released her a few moments later, they were both breathing hard, and he leaned down to rest his forehead against hers. "Darcy," he whispered.

She smiled. "Yes, Victor?" She paused. "I  _can_ call you Victor, right? It might be a little awkward to call you Doom after a kiss like that."

"You," he murmured, pressing another kiss to her lips, "are going to be so  _very_ much trouble, I think."

Darcy laughed softly. "Of course I am," she replied. "If I were otherwise, I don't think I'd be  _your_ soul mate."

"How very accurate," he murmured. And then he lowered his head and he kissed her again.

~*~

It was very late indeed when Darcy got home that night; late enough, she hoped, that everyone else would either be asleep or at least have already retired to their own apartments for the evening. Each of the Avengers had their own floors in the topmost (and narrowest) levels of the Tower; Darcy's own apartment, since she had moved out of Jane and Thor's place, was below them, on a level where the building began to widen out enough for more than one family-of-six-sized residence. She practically had the place to herself, though; the other apartment on her level was reserved for Sam Wilson, who was still headquartered out of Washington, D.C.

Because of this, and because it was nearly three o'clock in the morning, Darcy wasn't really expecting to see anyone else on her floor of the Tower, which was why, when she stepped off the elevator to see someone sitting in the floor beside her door, she let out a small (okay, maybe not-so-small) shriek of surprise before recognizing the blond hair and hangdog expression of Steve Rogers.

He looked up at her from his cross-legged position under her doorbell, and the look of abject misery on his face was almost enough to make her unilaterally forgive him instantly. Almost. She stopped in the hallway about three feet from him and folded her arms under her breasts. "Steve," she said simply.

He pushed himself to his feet. "Darcy," he said. "I'm sorry."

She narrowed her eyes at him and waited. He sighed, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. "I, um. I went over to talk to Johnny and Bucky after you left. They kinda... set me straight on a few things, I guess. You're right in what you said; I don't have any room to criticize you about your soul mate, seeing how I acted about mine. And even if I hadn't, I still don't have any right. You didn't pick him; God did, or the universe, or whoever. And Bucky..." He paused and gave a soft, humorless laugh. "Bucky said, 'You know, Stevie, your Ma always used to say God wouldn't pair up an angel and a devil.' And I just... sat there staring at him, because I  _just_ said that to you last week and then I turned around and started acting like this." He took a deep breath, his shoulders slumping. "And I'm sorry," he said softly. "Because I should have been acting like your friend instead of like your judgmental old busybody neighbor."

Darcy felt herself melt. She reached out and took his hands. "It's okay," she said softly. "I kinda like my judgmental old busybody neighbor." Then she pulled him close for a hug. "But if it's all the same to you, I think I'd rather you were my friend from now on, okay?"

He squeezed her tight. "Okay," he said softly. When he let her go, he looked down at her and gave her a slight, damp smile. "So," he said, "are you tired and want to go to bed, or can I catch up on some of my missed friend-time and get you to tell me all about him?"

She laughed. "You don't have to," she said. "I know it's weird."

"No, no. I want to." He ran a hand through his hair. "It  _is_ weird, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't tell me all about it. I mean..." he shrugged. "Maybe if I get the chance to listen to you tell me about him, I can... understand it better?"

She tilted her head, studying him for a moment, before nodding. "Okay," she said, moving to the door and laying her palm on the biometric scanner. The door slid open and she passed through it, kicking her shoes off just inside. "Come on in. You want a beer?"

"Sure," he replied, following her into her apartment. He kicked his own shoes off at the door, watching as she shrugged her backpack off, dropping it onto the sofa, and then lifted her shoulder bag off and hung it on the coat tree. She padded across the room into the kitchenette, retrieved two bottles from the refrigerator, and brought them to him. He popped the tops off the bottles with his thumb, dropping them into her hand with a grin, and took his beer, seating himself in the squashy armchair and propping one ankle up on the opposite knee. "So, I'm new to the whole girl talk thing. You have to tell me if I do something wrong, okay?"

Darcy laughed. "You're doing fine so far," she said, tossing the bottle caps into the trash, "but I can paint your nails if you want me to."

"Another time," he replied, grinning.

She strolled over to the couch and settled onto it, tucking her feet under herself. "So, okay... Um. Post-date dissection. He has a loft on Park, which is where we went. He ordered dinner in from Porter House. It was  _delicious._ He let me rant for like thirty minutes about this massive bunch of d-bags that I live with." She paused and grinned at him. "Then he distracted me by bringing up politics, and we spent the rest of the night arguing over executive policy and the social safety net and First Amendment rights and also he's a really good kisser."

Steve managed, by sheer force of will, not to snarfle his beer. He did choke, but only a little bit, and he tried very hard to pass it off as a coincidental coughing fit - not that he succeeded. She was smirking at him when he managed to take a clear breath, and he narrowed his eyes at her. "I told you I was new to this whole thing," he wheezed. "That's really not fair."

"But you're so  _good_ at it, Steve," she replied, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

He shook his head at her. "You know, back in my day, girls didn't treat their friends like that."

She laughed. "Sure they did," she said. "You just don't know, because back then, girls didn't have guy friends."

He stuck his tongue out at her. "See if I have girl time with  _you_ again any time soon."

Darcy laughed. "You'll be back," she told him. "One of these days you'll come stumbling in here all glassy eyed to tell me how Johnny finally decided he's only  _ mostly _ straight." She leaned forward as Steve choked on his beer again. "All I'm saying is this: when that day comes? Pics or it didn't happen."

~*~

The next morning, when Darcy finally dragged herself into the lab, she found a tall, square vase standing in the center of her desk, brimming with roses, lilies, and birds-of-paradise. She gasped at the sight of it. "Oh,  _ wow _ ," she breathed, darting over to bury her face against the bouquet, breathing in the combined scent of the roses and the lilies. "Oh, it's  _ gorgeous. _ " She raised her head, looking up and around the lab. "Jane?" she called out. "Janey, did you smell these? They're  _ amazing. _ "

Jane came out from behind one of the machines, her face a study in blankness. "Did you have a good time last night?"

"I did," Darcy replied, the good feeling slowly draining out of her as she faced her friend. "I actually had a  _ very _ good time."

Jane nodded stiffly. Her eyes flicked to the bouquet and then back to Darcy. She sighed. "Look, I'm trying to be non-judgey, okay?" she said. "It's just... it's not easy." She chewed on her lip for a moment, then finally approached Darcy, grabbing a stool from the nearest lab table and plopping down onto it. "Steve yelled at all of us when he got back from the Baxter Building last night," she admitted. "He pointed out that we were all being super-judgmental about something that none of us had the right to be judgmental about, himself included, and that getting down on you about... about Doom was just going to end badly, and maybe end up driving you away." She took a deep breath, looking down at her hands for a minute before looking back up at Darcy. "I don't want to drive you away. You're my friend. My best friend, since New Mexico. But, Darcy, he's  _ Victor von Doom _ !"

"I know he's  _ Victor von Doom, _ " Darcy replied, keeping her voice even. "I know he's almost twenty years older than me, I know he's got a bad reputation, I know he's done some bad things and I know he's hurt people in the past. I know he and Reed Richards hate each other. I know I'm probably going to spend the rest of my life slightly jealous about his weird obsession with Sue Storm.  _ I know _ these things, Jane." She swallowed hard, reaching out and plucking the little card out of the bouquet. She slid it out of the envelope. "But he's also the guy who was nervous about taking his mask off because he was afraid I'd judge him for having scars on his face, and he's the guy who spent five hours last night arguing political theory with me because he  _ actually cared _ about what I thought, and he's the guy who sent me flowers this morning with a card that says we should play Risk next time because he wants to see how quickly and efficiently I can take over all of Eastern Europe."

Jane was startled into a laugh. "Really?"

Darcy held the card out. "Really."

Jane took the card and read it, then looked up at Darcy. "I..." She paused. She read the card again. Then she shook her head. "I take it all back," she said softly. "He might actually be perfect for you."

~*~

Bruce stopped by after lunch to have a sniff of Darcy's flowers, and he gave her a smile when he read the card. "I've never actually talked to the man," he admitted to her. "Has he done some things I don't agree with? Yes. But I've done things other people don't agree with. And I trust you to know the difference between a guy who is genuinely evil and one who isn't." He patted her shoulder and retreated back to his lab.

Darcy spent the next hour or so smiling to herself. That smile slipped away when a shadow fell across her desk and she looked up to find Clint Barton standing over her, leaning over the flowers to read the card. He shook his head at her. "You're crazy as hell. You know that, right?"

"Fuck off, Barton," Darcy replied. "I don't have to take that from someone who has  _ Where are your wings, Hawkeye? _ stamped on his butt cheek."

His eyes went huge and round. "I told you that in confidence!"

She returned her gaze to her computer screen. "Goodbye, Barton."

He didn't move. After a minute or so, she sighed heavily and looked up at him. "What."

"Just... are you sure? About him?"

She sat back in her chair. "Am I sure? Of course not, you idiot. I've literally been to his home once because I was  _ kidnapped there _ , talked to him on Skype a few times, and spent one evening at his place here in New York. And the whole time I've known him, he's been on his best behavior. So no, I'm not  _ sure _ about him. What I  _ am _ sure about is that he deserves a chance, just like anybody else's soul mate. I  _ am _ sure that he at least  _ has _ best behavior, unlike you, and that he has so far at least gone to the trouble of pretending that he respects me as a human being." She paused. "Whether he actually  _ is _ just pretending or not remains to be seen. But for right now, I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt. Because if it doesn't work out between me and him, that's going to be because of me and him, and not because  _ you _ decided you don't approve. It isn't your choice. It's mine."

Clint studied her for a long moment. Finally he nodded. "All right," he said. "You've made your point. I'll leave you alone about it." He took a deep breath. "Just... Darce... if you need me, you come to me. Okay? Don't like... don't let your pride get in the way of asking for help if you need it."

She studied him in return, taking in the extremely rare expression of sincerity on his face. And she nodded. "Okay," she said softly. He reached out and ruffled her hair, then left again. She went back to work.

She didn't hear or see Natasha come by, but at some point during the day, a small tin of Russian tea cakes appeared on her desk. 

Johnny and Bucky came by just before Thor got there to pick up Jane; Bucky perched himself on the edge of Darcy's desk and compulsively sniffed at her flowers while Johnny sprawled into one of the visitors' chairs and grinned his cheesiest grin at her. Darcy saved her work and rolled her eyes. "What do  _ you _ want, Barbecue Pit?"

"The usual. World peace, mad bank, tits and ass. What about you?"

"Mostly for people to stop coming by here like I have to be checked on or something."

Bucky still had his face buried in the bouquet. "Worth the trip," he said.

Darcy smiled at him. She couldn't help it. She reached out and tugged one of the roses out of the vase and handed it to him. "Here," she said. "You take one."

He beamed at her, his fingers gently stroking the outer petals. Darcy had noticed that Bucky seemed starved for beauty and gentleness; she made a mental note to suggest to Steve that a medium sized dog with a soft coat might be something to think about.

Johnny started to say something, but was interrupted by the arrival of Thor, who was looking like the world's worst pun in a Minnesota Vikings jersey and light wash blue jeans. Darcy covered her face with one hand. "Oh, God," she moaned. "Thor, did Tony give you that shirt? You  _ have _ to stop taking clothing advice from him, he is only trying to troll you."

"On the contrary!" Thor replied, grinning. "I obtained this garment of my own volition, from a vendor on Canal Street." He ran his hands down his torso. "It is a remarkable likeness of an Asgardian warrior!"

"It's a fake Minnesota Viking," Johnny replied. "Turn around; let's see the back." Thor, beaming even more widely, turned. Emblazoned across his shoulders in huge white capital letters was the name "ODINSON," above a huge white number 99.

Johnny and Darcy exchanged glances, and both of them rolled their eyes. But Thor obviously liked it - a lot - and there was no sense in raining on his parade. "It looks good on you, Thor," Darcy said finally.

He turned back to her, grinning. "Thank you, little sister." He strode across the room then and wrapped his meaty arm around her shoulder. "Tell me of this man who would be worthy of you."

Darcy sighed. "Look, I know you heard all about him from everyone else," she began.

"I care not what others say of him," Thor interrupted her. "I would hear what  _ you _ would say."

She blinked at him, and then smiled a little bit. "Well, he's... he's kind of all right, actually." She glared at Johnny when he choked a little bit, smirking when Bucky whacked him in the arm with his metal fist. Then she turned back to Thor. "He's done bad things; I'm not going to sugar-coat that. But he has the potential to be better. To do better things. And, well, so far at least, he's been good to me."

Thor nodded. "Perhaps what he needs is for you to guide him into doing better things with his power," he said, his voice gentle. "It is no less than what my beloved Jane did for me."

Darcy grinned. "Either that or I can just egg him on to complete world domination."

Thor chuckled, squeezing her. "Or that," he said. He let her go, but kept one hand on her shoulder for a moment. "I, more than most, know well how capable you are of defending yourself. But Darcy, worry not for your pride to come to me if you need me. It would be my honor and pleasure to stand for you, if the need should arise."

She leaned forward and hugged him tightly. "I will, Thor," she said softly. "Thanks."

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "You are most welcome." Then he let her go and went to wrangle Jane out of the lab for dinner. 

Darcy turned back to the desk, collecting her things before shouldering her bags. "All right," she said. "I'm taking this stuff home, and then I think I'm changing clothes and going in search of the elusive all-you-can-eat taco dinner. Anybody with me?"

"Ooh," Bucky said. "Tacos. I like tacos."

Darcy grinned. "Come on, then," she said. She cocked an eyebrow at Johnny. "How about you, Barn Burner?"

"Gotta check with Steve first," he said. "But if Bucky wants to go, he'll probably want to go, too."

"Okay, well, let me know," Darcy said. "I'm taking all this crap and going home." 

She reached for her flowers, but they were pulled almost directly out of her grasp before she had a chance to lift them. She blinked. Bucky grinned at her. "Let me," he said.

If it had been anyone else, she'd have said no; she'd have said she could carry her own things, and she would have done so. But it was Bucky, and he always looked so sweet, like he was so desperate to do the tiniest things to help out, and he always had that look on his face that said  _ please, please let me be useful to you _ . She suspected it was an outward sign of inward fears, but she kept her speculation to herself and she said, "Okay, Bucky."

His smile was brilliant, showing teeth and all, and Darcy rolled her eyes. "Manipulative little bastard," she grumbled.

He laughed, sliding off the edge of the desk and standing. To Johnny, he said, "You gonna find Steve?"

Johnny nodded. "I'll find him," he said. "Let you know what he says."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So okay  
> like  
> there's crack, you know, and everything is supposed to be funny and stuff right  
> and then
> 
> _**Bucky Barnes**_
> 
> So. Um. Yeah.
> 
> Also, suzukiblu, this is the chapter with the scene that is JUST FOR YOU. YOU WILL KNOW IT WHEN YOU SEE IT.

Darcy and Bucky headed for the elevator while Johnny, as usual, headed down the stairs. Once they were alone, Darcy said, "You okay, Bucky?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," he replied, leaning down and smelling her flowers again. "I just..." He shrugged. "One of those days. I'm trying to fight it, but Steve and Sam both say that sometimes you just can't. So you have to... to do things that make you feel good, to chase it away."

Darcy nodded. "You like being useful," she said softly, nodding at the flowers.

"Yeah." He leaned against the wall. "Ever since I was a kid, I've always had... you know... I could  _ do _ stuff. Back then it was usually for money, you know? I'd run errands for old Mrs. DeLucca, and she'd give me a couple of pennies. That kinda thing. Or lookin' after Steve. But he..." He swallowed. "He don't need so much lookin' after any more."

"Hey," Darcy said, reaching up to touch Bucky's arm. "Steve will always need you. You know that, right? He loves you."

"Yeah," Bucky said softly. "Because Johnny's straight."

"No. Because he  _ loves you _ ." Darcy ducked and leaned, getting under Bucky's face and making him look at her. "I was there when they exchanged words. Did you know that?"

He blinked at her in obvious surprise. "No."

"Well, I was. Or rather, right after. I walked in on them getting ready to fight because Steve thought Johnny was making fun of his mark." She grinned. "I'm the one who figured out that he wasn't  _ making fun _ of it, he was  _ saying _ it. And do you know what the first thing was that Steve said after he realized?"

Bucky shook his head, and Darcy said, "The first thing he said was, 'I'm in love with someone else, so I can't.' He didn't even really know whether or not Johnny would want him that way, and he refused his soul mate because he loves you. He  _ loves you _ , Bucky. You're not going to lose him to Johnny, okay?" Then she smirked. "Besides, if Johnny ever decided to bat for the home team, I'm pretty sure he'd be looking to make a double header, if you get my drift."

Bucky blinked at her. "Anybody ever tell you that you're a little bit wrong in the head?"

"Have you  _ seen _ who my soul mate is?" Darcy countered.

"You make a good point," Bucky replied.

The elevator doors opened, and Darcy crossed the hall, palming the scanner plate and then stepping inside. "Come on in, Bucky," she said. "Excuse the mess." She kicked a pair of pants out of the main walkway. "Let me go get changed."

"Sure," Bucky replied. He carried the vase full of flowers over to the table in the corner, under the tall windows, and placed it there. Stepping back, he admired the aesthetic for a moment, then buried his nose in the flower she had given him, closing his eyes and swathing his wounded psyche in the sweet scent and the delicate touch of petals to his skin.

There was a knock at the door, and Bucky wandered over to open it, expecting Johnny and Steve. He blinked at the sight that greeted him instead: a man in silver armor and a green hooded cloak, broader and taller than himself, and wearing a metal mask. "Oh," he said stupidly, blinking. "You must be Doom."

"WHO ARE YOU?" boomed out from behind the mask.

"Bucky Barnes," Bucky replied. He stepped back from the door. "C'mon in." He took a few steps toward the bedroom door. "Hey, Darce! Your boyfriend's here."

Darcy stuck her head out the bedroom door, her form covered only by the oversized t-shirt she had clamped across her chest. She smiled broadly. "Victor! Hi! Give me a second." Then she vanished behind the door again.

Victor's head turned slowly toward Bucky, his eyes glittering coldly.

Bucky shook his head. "Don't look at me like that, man. I didn't touch her."

Darcy stuck her head back out the door again. "Victor, this is Bucky. He's Captain America's boyfriend. Be nice, he's having a rough patch." She disappeared again.

Bucky gave Doom a slight smile, making  _ ta-dah _ hands toward Darcy's bedroom door. "See?"

"YOU ARE NOT COURTING HER?" Doom asked, suspicion still thick in his voice.

"Hell, no," Bucky replied. Then he paused "I mean, don't get me wrong, I probably  _ would _ , but I don't really go for girls."

Doom was silent for a moment before speaking again. "DOOM HAD BEEN GIVEN TO UNDERSTAND THAT CAPTAIN AMERICA WAS... INVOLVED WITH JOHNNY STORM."

Bucky shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "They're... platonic," he said. He ran a hand through his hair and forced himself to add, "Johnny helped Steve find me."

Darcy's door opened, and she padded out in sock feet, skinny jeans and another oversized sweater, carrying her boots in one hand. "Bucky's complicated," she said, gently maneuvering Doom toward the couch. When he took the hint and sat down, she dropped down next to him and started pulling her boots on. "He was captured by HYDRA in 1945 and they hurt him pretty badly. They made him do things he didn't want to do, and kept him locked up in cryo-freeze the rest of the time."

Doom visibly recoiled. "HYDRA ARE THE SCUM OF THE EARTH," he boomed. "THEY HAVE ATTEMPTED MORE THAN ONCE TO OBTAIN POWER AND CONTROL IN LATVERIA. DOOM DOES NOT APPRECIATE THEIR ACTIONS AND BEHAVIORS."

"Yeah, I don't like 'em much, either, pal," Bucky muttered, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Well, then, how about that?" Darcy said. "We can all agree that HYDRA sucks pterodactyl balls."

Both men blinked at her. After a moment, Bucky said, "That was... awfully specific."

"It was, wasn't it?" Darcy replied, grinning. She stood, stomping her feet in her boots, and then looked over at Doom. "We were going to get tacos. Do you want to come?"

He studied her for a moment before nodding. "DOOM WOULD LIKE THAT VERY MUCH."

"Okay, then," Darcy said. She glanced over at Bucky. "Have we heard anything yet from the Trouble Twins?"

Bucky snorted softly. "Not yet. Hey, JARVIS, where's Johnny and Steve?"

"Captain Rogers and Mr. Storm are in the video game room," JARVIS replied.

Darcy rolled her eyes. "Probably distracted playing Mario Kart again." She held out her hands to Doom, who took them and allowed her to pretend she was pulling him up off the couch. "Let's go get 'em."

"Johnny probably knows where the good taco places are," Bucky offered as they left her apartment.

Darcy grinned. "Johnny knows where  _ all _ the good food is in New York. That boy can eat more than anybody I ever saw, except for Steve and Thor."

"DOOM HAS HEARD THAT THE SERUM ADMINISTERED TO STEVE ROGERS HAS GIVEN HIM AN ACCELERATED METABOLISM," Doom said as they piled into the elevator. "IS THIS ACCURATE?"

Darcy and Bucky both nodded. "He has to eat a lot more than he used to, or he starts dropping muscle mass," Bucky explained. "He keeps protein bars in his packs and always puts protein powder in his milkshakes and stuff."

"And sugar," Darcy said. "God, he eats raw sugar straight out of the box sometimes. It's  _ disgusting _ ."

"I don't think he even really tastes it," Bucky confessed. "He kinda gets that blank look on his face like he's not even paying attention to what he's doing any more, just shoveling it in."

Darcy shook her head. "There's gotta be a better way to do that."

"ALMOST CERTAINLY THERE IS," Doom said, sounding thoughtful. "PERHAPS THE PROTEIN BARS CAN BE MADE WITH RAW SUGAR RATHER THAN REFINED, OR CORN SYRUP."

The elevator stopped and opened up on the Avengers' common floor. "Yeah, that corn syrup is kind of gross," Bucky said.

"And it's bad for you," Darcy added. She turned a corner and swung through a doorway into the video game room. "You two," she said, "are in  _ so much trouble. _ "

Johnny and Steve both looked up, startled, with identical expressions of shock and dismay. "How long's it been?" Steve asked.

"Long enough that I got completely changed  _ and _ Victor came by so he's going to go with us."

Johnny took a deep breath, as if he was going to say something, but then he let it out slowly. "Okay," he said. "That... might be a little awkward, but we're all grown-ups, right?"

"CERTAINLY," Doom replied from behind Darcy, where he was leaning against the door frame. "DOOM IS CAPABLE OF BEING CIVILIZED IF YOU ARE."

There was a long moment in which Darcy, Steve, and Bucky all looked skeptically at Johnny. Johnny steamed just a little bit, the tips of his ears going pink. "What?!" he exclaimed. "I can be civilized!"

Darcy turned to Bucky. "Twenty bucks says he starts a brawl before the end of the night."

"No bet," Bucky replied. "I'm no sucker."

"That's not what I heard," Darcy replied in a sing-song voice.

"That's an entirely different definition of sucker," Steve interjected. And then his face flushed bright red as Johnny started laughing so hard that he fell over backward.

Bucky's eyes went huge and round, even as a broad smile cracked his face, and Darcy pretended to stagger backward and swoon into Doom's arms, one hand on her forehead. "Oh, my stars and garters!" she exclaimed, fanning at her face.

"YOU ARE ALL RIDICULOUS PEOPLE," Doom observed mildly, "AND DOOM IS NOT CERTAIN WHY HE WANTS TO SOCIALIZE WITH YOU."

Darcy grinned up at him, fluttering her eyelashes. "Of course we are," she replied. "That's part of what makes us so much fun to be around."

"ONLY PART?" he asked.

"Sure," Darcy said. "Other parts include watching Tony blow stuff up, watching Steve's face turn bright red after he accidentally says something dirty in mixed company, and watching Tony's face turn bright red after Steve accidentally says something dirty in mixed company because he can't deal with Steve not being pure and virginal."

"Don't forget watching Coulson's face turn bright red when Steve says something dirty, whether it's in mixed company or not, because he gets a little turned on and is scared to admit it," Johnny added, levering himself up out of the floor.

"You need to watch out for Coulson," Bucky advised him with a very serious expression.

"I do?" Johnny asked. "Why's that?"

"Because I don't know if you've noticed, but you and Steve? There's a resemblance there. He's already poppin' a stiffy for Steve; you don't want him to start panting after you, too."

" _ Okay, _ " Steve said loudly, standing up. "Tacos! Johnny said something about tacos!"

Darcy shook her head at Bucky. "There's a line, dude."

Bucky held up his hands. "What? It's the truth."

"It might be," Darcy said repressively, "but it's not nice to make fun of him about it. Nobody makes fun of you when  _ your  _ boner gets confused."

Bucky's face went pale and then flushed bright red in quick succession. "That's not funny, Darce," he managed.

"I know it's not," Darcy replied. "It's not funny when you say it about Coulson, either."

Bucky stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared at the floor. "Sorry," he muttered.

Darcy stilled for a moment, watching him, and then glanced up at the others. She waved them off toward the elevator and they went, though Steve stayed near the doorway on the outside. Darcy ignored him, stepping up into Bucky's personal space and putting her hands on his arms as she tried to make eye contact. "Hey," she said. "I didn't mean to be harsh."

He looked away from her, fixing his eyes on the far wall even as the skin under his eyes and around his nose went red. "It's fine," he said, his voice rough. "I deserved it."

"No, you didn't," Darcy said softly. "My whole point was that it's mean to make fun of somebody in that situation, and I made it by making fun of you for being in that situation, even after we just talked about it earlier. Which was super mean of  _ me _ , and I shouldn't have done it." She reached up with gentle fingers and wiped at the spot of wetness rolling down his cheek. "I'm sorry."

He turned to her suddenly, bending his head over her shoulder, and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in tight. "I know," she whispered against his neck. "I know it's hard, and it's confusing. You've only been back for a little while and everything's still so jumbled up in your head. You need to tell them that."

"I can't," he managed between shuddering breaths. "I c-can't. He won't want me any more."

"Bucky," she whispered, her hands rubbing at his back, "he will always want you."

He shook his head, his hands fisting against her shoulder blades. "He won't. I can see it when he looks at me. When I get confused, when... when my head gets jumbled. When I have the nightmares. He gets this look on his face and I just... I can't tell him, I can't."

"He looks like that because he's worried about you," Darcy said firmly. "He wants you to be okay, but he doesn't know what to do to help you heal. You need to tell him how you feel. He can't fix things if he doesn't know they're broken."

"He doesn't need me any more," Bucky gasped against her shoulder.

There was a sudden warmth against Darcy's side, and she looked up to see Steve standing there, his face stricken, tears welling in his eyes. "Bucky," he said, his voice broken, "I will  _ always _ need you."

Bucky shook his head again, shuddering hard in Darcy's arms. "Not with h-him," he managed.

"Even with him," Steve said firmly. "Come on, Buck, he spent three months helping me and Sam look for you. You know that. He was the one who found you. Or, well, the one you found." He shrugged a little bit, his hand reaching out to rest tentatively against Bucky's back. "It's been me and you against the world since 1926, how can you think I'd give you up? I don't care if you're a little jumbled sometimes, and you get confused, and you have nightmares. I don't care what HYDRA made you do. I don't care about any of that, except for wanting to help you get better, and wanting you to not be hurting any more."

"But - " Bucky began.

Steve reached out, pulling Bucky out of Darcy's arms and into his own. "But nothin'," he said flatly. "You're my fella and that's that."

Bucky's arms went around Steve then, and Steve's around Bucky, and Darcy gave Bucky's back a gentle rub before looking up at Steve. "We're going to go," she said softly. "If you want to catch up with us later, call us. Okay?"

Steve nodded, one of his hands sliding up to card through Bucky's hair. He guided Bucky toward a nearby couch, and Darcy slipped from the room to find Johnny and Doom standing near the elevator, awkwardly looking anywhere except at each other. She sighed. "This is weird, isn't it? Is it too weird?"

"NO," Doom insisted. "THIS IS... FINE. WE CAN MAKE THIS WORK."

Darcy raised an eyebrow at Johnny. He glanced at Doom, then back at Darcy. "Hey, what the hell, right?"

Darcy rubbed at her forehead with two fingers. "Okay. I still want tacos."

"I know a great place for tacos," Johnny assured her.

"I figured you would," Darcy replied. She reached out one hand almost automatically, and felt the smooth metal of Doom's armor as he took it, giving it a gentle squeeze when the elevator doors opened. He waited until the doors closed to say, "WILL THEY BE ALL RIGHT?"

"I think so," Darcy said. She grimaced. "Bucky's been feeling inadequate because he isn't Steve's soul mate, and he's been afraid that the only reason Steve's still with him is because Johnny's straight."

Johnny blinked. "Uh. Wow. Now I feel like a complete piece of shit."

"It's not on you," Darcy said, pointing a finger at him. "It's not about you at all. It's about Bucky being in a place where his head isn't quite on straight. Don't take it on."

Johnny nodded. "Do my best," he said. He sighed, rubbing at his own forehead. "You know, life was a lot easier when I was just banging different random girls every couple of nights."

"I'm sure it was," Darcy said. "But you have, like, a hundred percent less gonorrhea now."

Doom snickered behind his mask.

~*~

They were just talking about getting ice cream from a stand when Darcy's cell phone rang. "That has to be Steve and Bucky," she said. "Everyone else texts." She pulled it out of her pocket and answered. "Hey," she said. "How's everything?"

And then her eyes went huge. She reached out, grabbing Doom's cape and pulling him out of the line. "Hey, um. Steve has a favor to ask."

Doom made an interrogative noise. Darcy explained. And Doom began to laugh.

An hour and a half later, they were arrayed on the front lawn of the Latverian embassy - inside the high walls, so that they were legally considered to be on Latverian soil. Steve and Bucky were standing next to one another in khakis and sport coats, holding each other's hands tightly. Johnny stood on Steve's right; Darcy stood on Bucky's left. And Doom stood facing the two of them, his arms folded across his chest.

"ARE YOU QUITE CERTAIN ABOUT THIS?" he asked.

Steve and Bucky both nodded.

"DOOM UNDERSTANDS THE EMOTIONAL TURMOIL," Doom said. "A KNEE-JERK DECISION IN RESPONSE TO THAT WOULD BE ILL-ADVISED."

"It's not," Bucky said simply. "I've wanted this since about 1933."

"Me, too," Steve agreed. "We couldn't then, but we can now."

Doom nodded. "VERY WELL," he said. "STEVEN GRANT ROGERS, DO YOU TAKE JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES AS YOUR SPOUSE, AND DO YOU SOLEMNLY SWEAR TO LOVE, HONOR, PROTECT, AND CHERISH HIM SO LONG AS YOU BOTH SHALL LIVE?"

Steve nodded firmly. "I do."

"JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES, DO YOU TAKE STEVEN GRANT ROGERS AS YOUR SPOUSE, AND DO YOU SOLEMNLY SWEAR TO LOVE, HONOR, PROTECT, AND CHERISH HIM SO LONG AS YOU BOTH SHALL LIVE?"

Bucky nodded also, his voice a little shaky when he spoke. "I do."

"HAVE YOU RINGS TO EXCHANGE?"

They did; they had stopped at a jewelry store on the way to the embassy and picked up a set of plain gold bands. Darcy sniffled and took pictures with her phone while they exchanged rings.

"DOOM HEREBY PRONOUNCES YOU MARRIED ACCORDING TO THE LAWS AND TRADITIONS OF BOUNTIFUL LATVERIA, WITH ALL OF THE RIGHTS AND RESPONSIBILITIES TOWARD ONE ANOTHER AS ARE CUSTOMARY AND CODIFIED, IN ALL PLACES AND BY ALL PEOPLES." He paused, and then added, "A KISS IS GENERALLY TRADITIONAL AT THIS POINT."

Darcy burst out laughing, and continued taking pictures as Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky and bent him backward, kissing him for all he was worth. Johnny whooped, pulling a package of sunflower seeds out of his pocket and tossing them over the newlyweds.

The embassy's official photographer, a tiny old Romany man with limbs like a bird and a shiny bald head, appeared from nowhere to take photographs with his very expensive-looking camera; he even made them pose for traditional-style wedding photographs, muttering imprecations at them in Latverian the whole time. When he was done, he said, "Proofs ready Friday. You come see. I show, big screen, you like." He turned and started to totter back into the building, then he paused and turned, pointing a finger at the newlywed couple. "Next time, you wear tuxedo! Look much nicer!" Then he was gone.

Bucky and Steve exchanged a glance. Then Bucky grinned. "You heard the man, punk," he said. "Next time you marry me, you better do it in a tux."

"Yeah, yeah," Steve replied, leaning over to kiss him again. "Whatever you say, Dollface."

There was a brief scuffle. Darcy interrupted it by sticking her fingers in her mouth and giving a sharp whistle. " _ If _ you two clowns are finished," she said, "Victor wanted to say something."

Attention shifted to Doom, who was standing behind Darcy's left shoulder, his arms folded across his chest. "IF YOU WISH IT," he said, "DOOM WOULD BE HAPPY TO OFFER YOU A SUITE INSIDE THE EMBASSY SO THAT YOU MAY SPEND THE WEEKEND TOGETHER IN PRIVACY."

Bucky blinked. "What, like a honeymoon suite?"

Darcy glared at him. "Do you want it or not?"

"Yes!" Steve blurted before Bucky could say anything else. He paused, coughed slightly, and composed himself. "Thank you," he said, his eyes on Doom's through the mask. "That's very kind of you, and we appreciate it."

"I'll pack you both a bag and bring it to you," Darcy said. "It'll be here in the morning." She grinned.

"Yeah, we won't need it before then," Bucky assured her.

She laughed. "Go! Away! Go be newlyweds. Only, hey, can I ask a favor?"

"You can ask anything, Darcy," Steve said, letting go of Bucky for a moment to stride up to her. "After everything you've done for both of us, you can ask anything you want."

Darcy reached up and patted his cheek. "I just want to be the one to tell Tony. Please can I?"

Steve and Bucky both burst out laughing. "You can absolutely tell Tony," Bucky said. "Just get JARVIS to record it for us, yeah?"

"You bet." She grinned.

Johnny, who had been uncharacteristically quiet through everything, stepped forward then. He reached out and grabbed Bucky by the arm, tugging him in, and slung his arms around both Bucky and Steve. "I'm really glad for you guys. I mean it." He met Bucky's eyes. "You make him so happy," he said softly. "In ways that I don't think I could. I know that what they did to you sucked, but I am so, so glad that you're here. Okay?"

Bucky, his eyes wet, nodded. Then Johnny turned and wordlessly embraced Steve. When he let go, he gave both men a gentle shove toward the embassy building's front door. "Go on," he said. "There's a guy in there that's chompin' at the bit to impress you with how fancy he keeps the place."

Steve reached out and grabbed Bucky's hand. "Come on, Mrs. Rogers."

"Hey, fuck you," Bucky replied, turning to follow him. "I ain't your missus."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a variety of things in this chapter that a lot of you have been asking about. 
> 
> *showers you with gifts*

Once Bucky and Steve disappeared inside, Johnny turned to face Darcy and Doom. "That was good," he said, his voice oddly soft. He glanced up at Doom and studied him carefully for a long moment. "Thanks," he said. "For doing that for them, I mean."

Doom nodded. "YOU ARE WELCOME," he said. He was silent for a moment before speaking. "THIS IS... STRANGE."

"Yeah," Johnny agreed. "Yeah, it is. If anybody'd told me a month ago that we'd be standing here today, I probably wouldn't have believed them."

"NOR I," Doom agreed. He looked down at Darcy for a moment, then laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "EVERY DAY, DOOM'S SOUL MATE TEACHES HIM A NEW THING THAT HE IS CAPABLE OF."

"You were always capable of compassion," Darcy said, reaching up to cover his hand with hers. "You just needed a push, that's all."

"PERHAPS," he said, and was silent.

Johnny cleared his throat. "I'm going to head home," he said. "Darce, I'll rummage through Bucky's stuff and put a bag together for him; you can come get it whenever."

Darcy nodded. "In the morning." She grinned. "Like Bucky said, they won't need it tonight."

Johnny laughed. "All right," he said. He gave her a playful salute, and Doom a grave nod. Then he said, "Flame on!" and launched himself into the sky.

Darcy watched him go. "Well," she said. "That ought to be good for a headline in the morning.  _ Human Torch seen escaping Latverian Embassy! Doom expected to rampage in retaliation! _ "

"HMM," Doom mused. "DOOM SUPPOSES THAT HE COULD, IF YOU THINK IT IS NECESSARY TO KEEP UP APPEARANCES." He put an arm around her shoulders and they began strolling quietly along a gravel path that wound through the embassy's lush grounds.

"I'd really rather you didn't," Darcy said. "The whole rampaging thing, it's not good for international relations, you know?"

"DOOM CARES NOT FOR INTERNATIONAL RELATIONS," he announced.

"Well, yes, I  _ know _ that," Darcy replied. "But... well, think about how you would feel if, say, the Avengers showed up in Doomstadt and started throwing down, you know? If they were on the main street there and just, you know, shooting up people's houses and businesses and making a wreck of things."

Doom nodded. "DOOM SEES YOUR POINT," he admitted.

"Right," Darcy said. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm the last person to try and tell you how to live your life. But I just feel like the whole wanton destruction of property thing is... maybe a little overdone?"

He studied her for a moment. "IS THIS YOUR WAY OF TELLING DOOM THAT YOU WOULD LIKE HIM TO CONSIDER ENDING HIS VENDETTA WITH RICHARDS?"

"God, no." Darcy shook her head vehemently. "Reed Richards  _ needs _ someone who can completely own him at absolutely everything. The man is a  _ douchebag _ . I mean, come on, his superhero name is  _ Mister Fantastic, _ could he  _ have _ more of an ego?"

Doom laughed. "DOOM MUST AGREE." He shook his head. "THERE ARE SOME THINGS AT WHICH RICHARDS IS TALENTED. HE KNOWS HIS WAY AROUND AN ENGINEERING LAB, AND CAN CREATE PORTALS TO DANGEROUS REALMS LIKE NOBODY'S BUSINESS," he said. "BUT DOOM IS ONE OF THE GREATEST SORCERERS IN THE WORLD - POSSIBLY  _ THE _ GREATEST, IF HE MAY BE PERMITTED THE CONCEIT, AND THE DAYS WHEN RICHARDS COULD BEST DOOM AT ANYTHING ARE LONG OVER."

Darcy stopped walking, turning to face Doom and studying him carefully. She gnawed on her lip for a long moment before turning away, crossing the grass and climbing up onto a wrought iron bench. He followed, and watched as she seated herself on the bench's high back, with her feet resting on its arm. She said, "So... that... actually brings us to something I've kind of been wanting to ask you about."

He nodded, studying her carefully. "ASK," he said simply.

She took a deep breath. "I want to know about Sue Storm."

"AH." He was still for a long time. Finally he sighed and came to sit on the bench beside her, his shoulder brushing against her calf. "THAT IS... A COMPLICATED STORY."

"I'm listening," she replied.

"WELL." He cleared his throat, and he tipped his head back to stare at the sky for a long time. Then he said, "AS A YOUNG MAN, DOOM WAS... IMPETUOUS. BRASH. PERHAPS A BIT ARROGANT. DOOM IS SURE YOU CANNOT IMAGINE HOW THIS COULD BE."

"No idea," Darcy drawled.

He chuckled. It sounded hollow. "DOOM MET REED RICHARDS AT UNIVERSITY. YOU MAY KNOW THIS ALREADY. HE WAS... BRILLIANT. NEARLY AS BRILLIANT AS DOOM. AND RATHER THAN BECOMING FRIENDS AS THEY MIGHT HAVE, THEY BECAME RIVALS." He paused, studying his hands for a long moment. "SUE STORM, UNFORTUNATELY, BECAME CAUGHT IN THE MIDDLE. SHE MET RICHARDS FIRST, AND OF COURSE HE IS HER SOUL MATE. BUT... WELL, YOU HAVE MET RICHARDS."

"Oh, yes, I have," she said. "You don't have to tell me. I've often wondered what keeps them together."

"AS HAS DOOM," he admitted. "THEY WERE, AS SOME SAY, ON-AGAIN AND OFF-AGAIN FOR A VERY LONG TIME. AND DOOM... WELL." He took a deep breath. "DOOM WAS VERY YOUNG, AND YOU WERE EVEN YOUNGER. AND DOOM KNEW THAT IT WOULD LIKELY BE TWENTY YEARS OR MORE BEFORE HE MET YOU, AND TO THE BOY THAT HE WAS, THOSE TWENTY YEARS FELT LIKE FAR TOO LONG. DOOM WAS CERTAIN THAT BY THE TIME YOU CAME INTO HIS LIFE, HE WOULD BE AN OLD MAN, THE BEST OF HIS YEARS BEHIND HIM. AND HE WAS DETERMINED NOT TO WASTE THOSE YEARS."

Darcy nodded. "I can understand that," she said. She reached out and rested her hand on his shoulder. "I was eleven when I found out who you were, so you were thirty or so. And I think the age difference freaked me out almost as much as knowing your identity."

His hand came up and wrapped gently around her calf. "IT IS... UNFORTUNATE, PERHAPS, THAT DOOM HAS NOT YET FOUND HIMSELF CAPABLE OF LETTING GO OF THAT CHILDISH OBSESSION."

"Well, I don't know," Darcy said. "I mean, it  _ did _ bring us together."

"THIS IS TRUE," he conceded.

"That said," she continued, "I... um. Like I said earlier, I don't want to be that person who tries to tell you how to live your life. But, um." She stopped, reaching up to rub at the back of her neck. "This is so awkward. Why am I so failboat at this?"

"SIMPLY SAY WHAT NEEDS TO BE SAID," he told her. "DO NOT FEAR DOOM'S RESPONSE."

She looked down at him, and knew from the way he was looking back at her that he already knew at least part of what she was going to say. She nodded. "I like you, Victor," she said softly. "I actually like you more than I thought I would, and probably more than I should for our very brief acquaintance." Her lips curled into a quick smile. "And I am your soul mate and you are mine, and that's a bond nobody can break or take away from us. But if..." She paused, swallowing hard. "If you want to continue with me, continue building something that... that might be  _ great _ ... you're going to have to leave her alone. Completely. Because I can't... I can't put my whole self into something with you if you can't put your whole self in with me."

Doom nodded. "DOOM UNDERSTANDS," he said. He tipped his head back to look at the stars again for a long moment. Then he stood up, turning to face her in the moonlight, and he reached up, taking off his mask. He laid it in her lap, and took her hands in his. "When I was a child," he said, his voice very soft, "I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known."

Darcy smiled, reaching up to cup the scarred side of his face with her left hand, and finished the quote. "And now abideth faith, hope, and love, these three; but the greatest of these is love." And she drew him down to meet her and she kissed him, there, in the moonlight.

~*~

Doom dropped Darcy off on the landing pad outside the main common room; he bowed over her hand before leaving, the gesture as good as a kiss between the two of them, and she wandered indoors with what she was certain was an incredibly goofy smile on her face. She paused just inside the doorway when she realized that she was being stared at; Tony, Clint, Thor, Bruce, and Natasha were all sprawled across various pieces of furniture, watching  _ Independence Day. _

She stared at the screen for a moment, then looked around at all of them. "You don't get enough alien invasions doing your day job?" she wondered.

Tony paused the film just as the giant mothership exploded the White House. "Lewis," he said. "How's your evil soul mate?"

"Pretty much not evil," Darcy replied. "How's yours?"

"Also not evil. And possibly more pants-wettingly terrifying than yours."

"Good to know," Darcy said. "I do love it when we have these little chats." She started through the room, but paused at a carefully calculated spot. Under her breath, knowing that the nearby, sensitive microphone would pick it up, she muttered, "JARVIS, please record." She tossed her next sentence casually over her shoulder. "By the way, you won't be seeing Steve and Bucky around this weekend. They'll be back by Tuesday, though." She continued on toward the door.

"Whoa, hold it," Tony and Clint both said at the same time. Darcy turned, an expression of innocence on her face, and Tony continued. "Spangles and Dr. Strangelove are off the grid? All weekend? And they didn't tell anyone ahead of time?"

Darcy nodded. "All weekend, yep. It was kind of a spur of the moment thing."

"What'd they do, go off on a romantic getaway?" Clint asked.

Tony snorted. "You and me and the Human Torch makes three?"

Darcy ignored Tony and responded to Clint. "Actually, yes, in a manner of speaking."

As she had expected, everyone's ears pricked up at that. "What do you mean, 'in a manner of speaking'?" Natasha asked.

Darcy turned to face them all, grinning broadly. "They're on their honeymoon!"

There was a long moment of silence as five jaws dropped and five Avengers stared at Darcy. "What?" Clint finally managed. "They  _ what? _ "

"They're on their honeymoon," Darcy repeated. "They just got married." She glanced at her watch. "Have in fact now been married for about four hours."

"This is cause for celebration!" Thor boomed. "We must plan a feast for their return!"

Darcy grinned. "I bet they'd love that."

"Wait a second," Bruce said. "How did they get married this evening? New York law requires a twenty-four-hour waiting period."

"Latverian law doesn't," Darcy replied, grinning. "Latverian law is whatever Victor von Doom says it is."

"Darcy Lewis," Tony gasped. "Did you convince your evil soul mate to let Captain America have a Latverian wedding to the Red Scare?"

"He's not evil, and I didn't have to convince him of anything. Steve asked, and Victor said yes, and we met up at the embassy. Victor did the ceremony."

"How was it?" Bruce asked, curious.

Darcy smirked. "Very brief and to the point."

"As brief as the  _ Spaceballs _ wedding?" Clint wanted to know.

"Not quite that brief," Darcy admitted. "But close."

"Wait, wait, wait," Tony interrupted. "Is nobody getting the take-away here? The All-American Boy and his ex-Soviet punch-card got married on Latverian soil  _ with Doom himself officiating? _ "

"Yes, we get that," Darcy said. "And if you ever call Bucky anything like that again, you won't have to worry about Steve hearing about it, because I'll rip your balls off and feed them to you."

There was a moment of quiet. Then Tony said, "Yeah, sorry about that. I might have gotten carried away."

"Just a little bit," Natasha said in a tone that indicated Tony would be paying for it when he least expected to.

"And yes, Tony, we got the take-away," Bruce added. "Steve and Bucky are married. This is a  _ good _ thing, you know?"

"Oh, sure it is," Tony said, grinning broadly. "I can't  _ wait _ to see what the papers say."

~*~

On Sunday morning, the  _ New York Post _ ran a predictably screaming scare headline:  _ HUMAN TORCH SEEN FLEEING LATVERIAN EMBASSY!  _ with a sub-headline speculating about why he was there and whether Doom might be reasonably expected to show up on Park Avenue with Doombots in the afternoon.

The  _ New York Daily News _ speculated loudly, at the top of its front page, about whether or not the Fantastic Four had begun running anti-Doom operations after several months of a relative détente between the two.

The  _ New York Times _ , predictably, ignored the situation as much as possible, burying the "news" about Johnny in the far back of the first section.

Darcy picked them all up anyway at a newsstand just down from the embassy. She'd gotten up early, put together a bag for Steve, swung by the Baxter Building to pick up the bag Johnny had put together for Bucky, and then caught a cab to the embassy, where she dropped both bags with the concierge at the front desk. "These are for Lord Doom's special guests in the Green Suite," she said. "Could you have someone carry them up?"

"Of course, Miss Lewis," the young woman at the desk replied, with a slight bow. "Right away, Miss."

"Thank you."

As she bought her papers, Darcy found herself musing about how weird it was to be the soul mate of Victor von Doom. Not just because of who he was, though that was very much bound up in it. But because, as the leader of his country, Doom was wealthy and privileged, and quite suddenly, that privilege was beginning to extend itself to her. On their arrival at the embassy the previous night, Doom had introduced her to his top aides and staff members as his soul mate; as a result, she was most definitely Miss Lewis to everyone on the grounds, and the ones who recognized her at first glance bowed just like they would have bowed to Doom.

As she left the grounds, one of the white-gloved men in livery tried to convince her to take a car home; when she refused, he tried to summon a taxi. When she further refused, insisting that she was going to walk, he had tried to summon an escort for her, and had been extremely perturbed when she turned down the escort as well. Darcy was pretty sure the escort in question was now following her, but she left it alone. Doom had obviously left orders that Darcy was to be taken care of, and if this was what they thought that meant, she was okay with being shadowed until she got home if it meant Doom's employees could tell him they'd done their job. Besides, it wasn't like it was entirely out of the realm of possibility that she could be in danger. Even aside from Doom, she worked for Jane Foster, lived with the Avengers, and was friends with the Fantastic Four.

_ Come to think of it,  _ she thought as she stopped for a cup of coffee,  _ it might not be a bad idea to start being a little more careful.  _

~*~

On Monday morning, there was further speculation about why Johnny had been at the embassy on Saturday night, but since nobody had any answers and Johnny himself was lying low, the headlines were smaller and farther down the page.

~*~

On Tuesday morning, the  _ Daily News _ ran a picture of Steve and Bucky leaving the embassy, hand in hand, along with a lot of really wild speculation. Unfortunately, nobody involved in the printing of the photograph seemed to be able to tell the difference between Steve and Johnny when they were in civilian clothing. Johnny called Darcy, choking with laughter over having been "photographed" with an unidentified male love interest who, the newspaper alleged, might be a high-ranking official at the embassy.

~*~

On Wednesday morning, the  _ New York Times, _ which normally took itself very seriously, ran a front page, above-the-fold headline. It wasn't the leading story, but it was right at the top, running in a column on the left side of the page.  _ Captain America Marries in Private Ceremony at Latverian Embassy. _ The article gleefully described the tiny, brief ceremony and speculated about why it had been held where it was held - and how it had come to pass that Doom himself had officiated and what that might mean for the future of hero-villain relations. But the real news was announced in a screaming seventy-two-point headline and accompanied by a massive side by side set of then-and-now photographs.

_CAPTAIN AMERICA'S SIDEKICK BUCKY BARNES DISCOVERED ALIVE_

The sub-heading, not much smaller than the heading, read,  _ WWII Hero Held Captive By Soviets, HYDRA Since 1945. _

Darcy, who read the article with her feet up on Doom's Park Avenue balcony railing while waiting for him to finish an important phone call, had to admit that Pepper, or her PR department, had done a  _ fantastic _ job getting the necessary facts to the right reporter. The article explained Bucky's pre-war history clearly and succinctly, emphasized his status as a prisoner of war in Austria in 1943, clearly recapped his dramatic rescue and the formation of the Howling Commandos, and explained the fall from the train when Steve had thought he'd died. 

From there, without getting too technical or too nuanced, the article carefully explained that Bucky was thought to have been injected with a variant of the super soldier serum, explaining how he survived the fall, and explained that he'd been captured by the Soviets, tortured and brainwashed (without providing too many details), and locked up in cryo-freeze. They further explained that at some point while frozen, Bucky had been transferred into the hands of HYDRA and forced to work for them until he was discovered and subsequently rescued - the details here were deliberately sketchy - by Captain America.

The side-by-side photographs were fascinating. The first one was Bucky's 1941 recruitment photo, which showed a cocky young soldier, clean-shaven and neatly shorn, his cover at a jaunty angle and the devil in his smile. The second was one Darcy had taken herself the same morning she'd been snatched by Doom's lackey. Bucky had been tucked into the corner of a hidden alcove on the roof of the Baxter Building, his hair long and shaggy, his chin and cheeks covered in a few days' worth of stubble. He'd been looking off into the distance, his troubled expression not quite a thousand-yard stare but something very close. The contrast between the two photos that unmistakably showed the same young man was, to say the least, dramatic.

Her phone buzzed with a text message from Bucky.  _ o shit im a celebrity help _

She laughed.  _ Too late, cant help. want me to ask V about asylum? _

_ LOL, _ he replied.  _ might have to if s kills tony. getting lots of cold war & iron curtain jokes. _

Darcy groaned.  _ Someone needs to tell him he's not funny.  _

_ Dont think he cares, _ Bucky replied. A moment later, he followed that up with  _ taking s to park before he does damage ttyl. _

Darcy considered warning him, but was distracted when the French door behind her opened and Doom stepped out onto the balcony. "DOOM IS SORRY FOR MAKING YOU WAIT SO LONG," he said.

"Hey, no worries," Darcy replied, tipping her head back expectantly. "I've been reading the paper. The  _ Times _ is very excited about Bucky."

Doom peeled his mask off and leaned over to press a kiss to her lips. "And the other papers?"

Darcy grinned. "The  _ Post _ is freaking out; it can't decide if it's more excited about Bucky being alive or Bucky being married to Steve, and is doing its dead level best to suggest that Steve and Bucky were boning during the war without actually coming out and saying it. And the  _ Bugle _ has lost its mind; Jameson printed an editorial that all but accuses Bucky of being a Communist spy and strongly suggests that Steve should give up the shield now that he's out of the closet."

Doom shook his head. "Jonah Jameson is a waste of planetary resources."

"Oh, look, something else we agree on." Darcy grinned. She started to say something else, but was interrupted by the ringing of her cell phone. "Ha!" she said. "Bucky must have discovered the legion of reporters circling Avengers Tower like vultures around a dying gazelle." She reached out and answered the call on speaker phone. "Hey, moron, I could've told you going outside was a stupid idea."

There was a long moment of silence - just long enough for Darcy to realize that she'd guessed wrong about her caller's identity - and then a woman's voice came out of the speaker. "I'm going to assume you didn't look at your caller ID before answering the phone," it said.

Darcy blinked. "Hi, Mom," she said, facepalming. "And no, I thought you were Bucky."

"Bucky," her mother said. "That would be Bucky Barnes, yes? The one who's on the front page of all the newspapers today?"

"That would be the one," Darcy replied. She rolled her eyes toward Doom and mimed stabbing herself in the chest. "He's a friend."

"Is he?" her mother replied in a bland voice. "That's very interesting."

Darcy sighed. "You have  _ you are in so much trouble _ face, Mom. I can hear it. Out with it."

Her mother took a deep breath. "Your father," she said, "is a little concerned about the company you're keeping."

Darcy groaned, covering her eyes. "Mom, I'm  _ twenty-seven. _ "

"We know that you're twenty-seven, dear. That doesn't stop us from worrying. You are, after all, the only child we have. If you do something ridiculous and get yourself killed - or worse, expelled - then who's going to make sure that we get locked up in only the best rest homes once we're too aged and infirm to feed ourselves gruel?"

"I will leave a note in my final instructions," Darcy replied. "Tony Stark will make sure you get locked up in a top-notch facility, with orderlies who only beat you twice a day."

"That's very thoughtful of you, dear," her mother assured her. "But your father and I have decided that we needed to take matters into our own hands. Are you free for lunch?"

Darcy, who had been in the process of miming a finger gun against her forehead, sat up straight, her feet falling to the balcony floor and her face going serious. "I'm sorry," she said. "Run that by me again, because I could have sworn that you just indicated that you were somewhere close enough to have lunch with me, and not in Dayton where you belong."

"Oh, did I forget to mention that, darling?" her mother asked. "We've come to visit. Surprise!"


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh you guys.  
> Random surprise parent visits FTW, am I right?  
> And also OTHER THINGS.
> 
> *mood music*

"Uh." Darcy stared at Doom, her eyes huge.

"Now, now, not to worry," her mother said. "We're not piling in on you. Your father found a Ramada in Jersey City with reasonable rates, and it's apparently very close to a subway stop, so we're going to go out there and check on - "

" _ Mother! _ " Darcy exclaimed. "Where  _ are _ you?"

"Well, we're still at LaGuardia Airport right now," her mother said. "Your father had to go to the restroom, and then we're going to get someone to show us which subway train to get on."

" _ No! _ " Darcy nearly shouted. " _ Stay there. _ I'm coming to get you."

"Oh, darling, that's really not necessary."

"Oh, yes, it really is," Darcy replied. "You cannot get on the subway with all your luggage and everything, Mother, you will be murdered before you can get out of Queens.  _ Jesus. _ Just stay there; I'm on my way." She hung up the phone and took a moment to bang her head on the table's surface. 

Doom laughed softly. "Your mother sounds... interesting."

"My mother is a peach," Darcy replied, her voice muffled by the table. "She's also batshit crazy." She took a deep breath. "She cannot take the subway because she travels with a ten-piece matched luggage set that she inherited from her mother. It's vintage, circa 1940. She's extremely proud of it and refuses to travel without the entire set. If she tries to get onto a train with that mess, someone will kill her and throw her  _ and _ all of her luggage off into the East River." She paused. "That person might end up being my father."

Doom laughed out loud at that. "I think I should like to see this vintage luggage."

Darcy raised her head, giving him a tired smile. "Yeah, but seeing that luggage would also mean seeing my mother. You sure you're ready for that?"

"No," Doom admitted. "But is anyone really ever ready for that sort of thing? Perhaps it's like an adhesive bandage; the quick yank is less painful than the slow peel."

Darcy snorted. "You asked for it," she said. She stood, folding up her papers and grabbing her cell phone. "Let's go before she decides to remodel the Delta desk."

~*~

Darcy had been planning on hailing a taxi; she had, of course, forgotten who she was dealing with. By the time she and Doom reached the street, a black Mercedes-Benz limousine was idling at the curb. The driver pulled the door open for them, and Doom handed Darcy in first before sliding in beside her. Darcy sighed, resting her head against the plush leather. "It's going to take me a while to get used to this, you know," she said.

"DOOM UNDERSTANDS," he assured her, patting her hand. He was quiet for a moment before speaking again. "IT IS NOT ONLY FOR SHOW, YOU KNOW. IT IS ALSO FOR SAFETY."

She nodded. "I know. I've thought about that. Even if we weren't soul mates, I'd still have a target on my back because of Jane and the Avengers and the Four."

Doom nodded, watching out the window as the city rolled smoothly by. "THERE ARE WAYS BY WHICH YOU COULD PROTECT YOURSELF," he finally said. "DOOM COULD TEACH YOU SOME OF THESE WAYS."

"You mean like how to fight?" Darcy asked.

He shook his head. "PHYSICAL FIGHTING IS BUT ONE SET OF ABILITIES," he said. "DOOM COULD TEACH YOU TO USE THE POWER OF YOUR MIND TO MANIPULATE THE ENERGY FIELDS AROUND YOU, AND EVEN TO SUMMON CREATURES THAT WOULD DO YOUR BIDDING."

She blinked. "Like magic?"

He nodded. "DOOM IS, AS ALL KNOW, A POWERFUL SORCERER. ONLY STEPHEN STRANGE CAN MATCH DOOM IN THAT ABILITY. DOOM COULD TEACH YOU TO HARNESS THAT POWER TO PROTECT YOURSELF."

She tilted her head. "Don't you have to be a mutant to do that kind of stuff?"

He shook his head. "IT IS NOT NECESSARY. ANYONE CAN LEARN WHO IS WILLING TO MAKE THE EFFORT."

"Huh," she said. "I'll definitely have to think about that."

He nodded. "SIMPLY INFORM DOOM OF YOUR DECISION."

"I will," she assured him. They were quiet for the rest of the drive, but she turned her hand over underneath his and twined their fingers together, and her thumb rubbed slowly back and forth against his.

When they got to the airport, Darcy called her mother again. "Where are you, Mom? Like, specifically."

"Terminal A," her mother replied. "We're actually outside near some metered parking. One of the porters said it was the best place to be picked up."

Darcy relayed this information to the driver, who nodded. "I know just where that is," he said.

"We're almost there, Mom," Darcy said. "Just hang out."

When they pulled through the metered lot, Darcy caught sight of her mother sitting primly on the largest of her suitcases. She sighed. "That's her," she called to the driver, who pulled toward the giant pile of suitcases. "She always packs for the zombie apocalypse," she muttered. Doom chuckled.

The car pulled to a stop right in front of Darcy's parents, who stared at it in surprise as the driver climbed out. Darcy opened the back door for herself and got out without waiting for him, launching herself into her father's arms. "Daddy!"

"Darcy!" he exclaimed, catching her and hugging her tight. "It's good to see you, girl."

"It's very good to be seen," she replied primly, then turned to throw her arms around her mother. "Hi, Mom!"

"Hello, darling," her mother said. She hugged Darcy tight, then pushed her back to arm's length. "Let me look at you. Have you been eating properly? You look like you've lost weight."

"Natasha makes me work out," Darcy griped, rolling her eyes. "She wants me to be able to fight off the next kidnapper."

Her father made a number of rumbling noises that Darcy took, without surprise, to be agreement with Natasha. She started to say something else, but paused at a flash of reflected sunlight from the direction of the car. Doom was climbing out. "Oh," she said, reaching for her father's hand. "Mom, Daddy, this is Victor. Victor, this is my mom, Shirley, and my dad, Greg."

Shirley Lewis's eyes went huge at the sight of Victor von Doom looming over them; she squeaked softly and said nothing. Greg Lewis, on the other hand, had zero compunctions about setting his daughter aside and stepping forward with his hands on his hips, even if he did have to tilt his head back to look up at Doom. "So," he said, "you're the fella who kidnapped my daughter."

"Dad!" Darcy hissed.

But Doom merely nodded. "THAT IS CORRECT," he replied.

Greg stared into the eye holes of the mask for a long moment. "You know that's not okay, right?" he finally said. "Not in any universe is it okay for a man to treat another man's daughter like that."

" _ Dad! _ " Darcy managed, her voice strangled.

"DOOM UNDERSTANDS THAT HIS ACTIONS REFLECT POORLY UPON HIM, YES," Doom replied. "HOWEVER, IN HIS DEFENSE, DARCY WAS NOT THE INTENDED TARGET."

"Yeah, that's not a defense," Greg replied. "Because that just implies I should be okay with you doing it to some other man's daughter, and I'm not."

" _ Dad, _ " Darcy moaned, her face gone crimson.

Doom was silent for a moment, studying Greg. Finally, he spoke. "YOUR POINT IS ACKNOWLEDGED AS VALID."

Greg gave one short, sharp nod. He studied Doom for another moment before speaking again. "I understand that you're a super-villain, or whatever it is that they call you folks. And I understand that you're the dictator of a country and all of those things. But I'm that girl's daddy, and I'm standing here today telling you in no uncertain terms that I don't care who you are, what country you run, or what kind of super powers you might or might not have. That's my baby girl. My only daughter. And if you hurt her, I will hurt you back."

The sound Darcy let out from behind the hands that were covering her face was inhuman.

Doom merely nodded. "UNDERSTOOD."

"All right, then," Greg said. He stuck out one hand to shake. "Good to meet you."

~*~

The next half hour or so passed, for Darcy, in a blur of embarrassment. Doom's driver packed Shirley's ten-piece matched luggage set into the trunk of the limousine, managing it so well that it fit together like the first level of a Tetris game. Then Doom handed first Shirley and then Darcy down into the car, waiting for Greg to climb in before sliding in last. And then Doom refused to hear anything about Greg and Shirley staying in a hotel; nothing would satisfy him but that they agreed to come and stay in his Park Avenue loft.

And then Darcy's mother started  _ noticing _ things. She noticed how fancy the car was, with its built-in mini bar and plush leather seats. She noticed the cuff bracelet Darcy was wearing, which was the platinum and fire opal piece that Doom had sent her that first week, while he was still in Latveria. She noticed the green ostrich-leather bag that Darcy had admittedly fallen in love with. When they arrived at Doom's building, she noticed how very fancy it was, with its liveried doorman and antebellum façade. She noticed the marble floors and the gilt mirrors and the hand-carved crown moulding. She noticed  _ everything. _

The trouble with Darcy's mother noticing everything, in Darcy's opinion, was that she noticed everything  _ out loud. _ And by the time she managed to bundle both of her parents into their rooms - because of course Doom's loft had a massive guest suite with a kitchenette and a sitting area and everything - Darcy was starting to feel like she was descended from the Beverly Hillbillies. She half expected her mother to come out talking about the jacuzzi tub like it was Cement Pond.

She found Doom standing on the balcony where they'd been sitting earlier and slipped up under his arm, wrapping her own arm around his waist and pressing her forehead against the side of his chest. "Thank you," she said softly.

He looked down at her. "FOR...?"

"Putting up with them. Putting them up." She laughed softly. "I'm sorry about my mother's yokel routine. I think she thinks she's funny."

"THEY ARE YOUR PARENTS," he said simply. "THEY WILL ALWAYS BE WELCOME."

She took a deep breath, relaxing against him. "We can figure this out, right?"

"TO WHAT DO YOU REFER?"

"Us." She closed her eyes for a moment, just feeling the strength of him next to her, and then she spoke again. "I mean, if you look at us objectively, there's... there's no way we can be  _ us. _ We're too different. From the age gap to the fact that you run a small Eastern European country with an iron fist and I work for a crackpot astrophysicist. One of my best friends is soul mates with one of the Fantastic Four and they're, like, your sworn enemies. You're you and I'm...  _ me. _ " The breath she let out then had a soft shudder to it. "But that's just on paper. You and I... we can figure it out, yeah? We can make it work."

He looked down at her; she looked back. And he said, "DO YOU WANT TO MAKE IT WORK?"

She swallowed hard. "Yeah," she said softly. "I really do."

"THEN THE ANSWER IS YES," he replied. "IT IS ALL A MATTER OF WANT AND WILL. IF YOU WANT IT, AND DOOM WANTS IT, BADLY ENOUGH, THEN THE THING TO DO IS FIND THE WAY FORWARD. AND THERE IS ALWAYS A WAY FORWARD."

She smiled slightly. "Even if it means blasting through a wall?"

"EVEN THEN." He paused, considering. "SOMETIMES ESPECIALLY THEN."

~*~

Darcy texted Bucky later that evening.  _ just wondering if your day was as nightmarish as mine _

_ dunno, _ Bucky replied.  _ went to park, got gawked at by tourists,vulture photogs, and some guy on tv called us deviants. u? _

_my parents showed up for surprise visit. staying at victors. mother pretending shes from the back woods and never seen city before, dont know why._

_ need me to manufacture emergency?  _ Bucky offered.  _ bet i can get thor 2 blow up something. _

Darcy replied with a heart emoticon.  _ doing ok so far but will let u know. r u up 4 faked kidnapping? _

_ TOO SOON, _ he replied.

~*~

Victor begged off dinner with her parents. He claimed that it was because he had work, but Darcy knew it was because he didn't want to take his mask off in front of them, and she understood, so she stepped into his study before he closed himself off and closed herself in with him. She reached up to touch his mask gently, asking without words, and he pushed his hood back and bared his face.

She smiled up at him. "I just wanted to say, again, thank you," she said softly. "It really means a lot to me that you're willing to put up with my crazy-ass family."

He smiled back, his hand coming up to cup her jaw tenderly. "They're really not that bad," he admitted. "Your mother, I confess, is a bit strange, but honestly, I'm in politics. I've seen stranger."

Darcy shook her head, rolling her eyes just a little bit. "I really don't know what's going on with her. I'm going to make her stop, though."

He chuckled softly. "I have faith that you'll do your best," he told her.

She tiptoed, pulling him down into a warm, wet kiss. "Will you be working late?"

He shook his head. "Probably not," he admitted. "There really are some things I need to do, but not that many. Mostly administrative things."

She nodded. "Is it all right if I come tap on the door once they go to bed?"

"Of course," he assured her, his thumb stroking her cheek. "You can always,  _ always _ do that." He smiled slightly. "I might not always let you in, but I won't get angry if you knock."

She smiled back. "Okay." She tiptoed again and pressed a gentle peck to his lips. "I'll see you later, then." She let herself out, pulling the office door shut behind herself, and trotted through the apartment to the dining room. Her parents were already seated at one end of the long table while Doom's Spanish butler, Reinaldo, brought dinner in. He placed plates in front of each of them with a flourish, gave Darcy a quick bow, and whisked himself away along with the cart. Once they were alone in the room, Darcy's parents fixed their gazes on her, and she squirmed in her seat. "What?" she muttered.

"You're very comfortable here, that's all," her mother said.

"Unlike some people," Darcy replied. "What's with the backwoods hillbilly act, Mom? You've been to New York and seen fancy things before."

"Well, you've been trying so hard to impress us, dear, that I thought I'd go ahead and be impressed."

Darcy sighed, covering her face with one hand. "Impress you? God, Mom, do you even understand?  _ I  _ wasn't trying to impress you with anything.  _ I  _ was going to come get you in a taxi and put you in the second bedroom in my apartment at the Tower. You want impressive? Tony Stark's got a computer system called JARVIS that's totally sentient. You don't have that here, I promise you."

Shirley's face went blank for a moment before she said, "Well, then, what was with the whole show?"

"It wasn't a  _ show, _ " Darcy snapped. " _ Victor _ insisted on coming to get you. Because you're my  _ parents _ and he wanted to make sure that you were comfortable and safe and if  _ anyone _ was trying to impress you, it was  _ him, _ and you're being a  _ jerk _ about it."

There was a long moment of silence in which Darcy's parents exchanged a long look across the table. And then her mother said, "I see."

Her father reached out and laid a hand on her arm. "How serious are you about him, Darcy?"

Darcy shrugged, her eyes on her plate, feeling a little bit like she was in high school again. "I don't know, Dad," she said softly. "I mean... there's not a scale for these kinds of things, you know? I'm not ready to marry him tomorrow or something, but..." She swallowed hard. "But I could see it happening, down the road."

"Oh, honey," Shirley said softly.

Greg squeezed her arm gently. "You're sure, sweetheart? I mean, you've only known him for, what, a couple of weeks?"

Darcy nodded. "I know," she said. "But I'm pretty sure."

He sighed softly. "All right, then," he said.

She raised her head and looked up at him. "Just like that?"

"Well, no, not  _ just _ like that," he replied. "I'm still your daddy, and  _ you _ might be sure about him, but  _ I _ still have some misgivings. But he's your soul mate, we've known that since the day you were born, and that's... that's powerful stuff, Darcy." He sighed, studying her face. "I don't know what causes soul marks. Nobody does. I don't know if it's magic or God or fate or what it is. But whatever it is, it brought you together with him for a reason. And the worst thing anyone could possibly do would be to stand in the way of that."

"But Darcy, you have to understand something," Shirley said softly. "Just because he's your soul mate doesn't automatically mean that everything is going to work out perfectly. Relationships are still hard work, and you still have to communicate and be honest and faithful and loving."

"I know that," Darcy said.

"I know you do," her mother replied. "You need to be sure that he does, too." And with that, she picked up her fork and began to eat her dinner.

~*~

Very late that evening, after Darcy's parents finally went to bed, she crossed the apartment once more, tapping quietly on the office door.

"Come in," he called from the other side, and she opened the door, slipping through and closing it behind her.

He was sitting at a massive oak desk, a glass of amber liquid at his hand, and as she moved to drop into one of the guest chairs, he closed what looked like a diplomatic packet and slipped it into a drawer. "How was dinner?" he asked.

"Delicious," Darcy replied. "And my mother semi-apologizes. She thought I was trying to show off."

"As if you would ever have any need to," he scoffed gently.

Darcy shrugged, running a hand through her hair. "Well, anyway, it's sorted. She's going to stop acting like an idiot."

Victor took a sip of his drink. "Your parents do not approve of me."

Darcy shrugged, leaning her head back against the chair. "To be fair, though," she said, "I'm pretty sure there's not many people they  _ would _ approve of."

He chuckled. "No?"

"No." She shook her head, smiling slightly. "Well, it's like Dad said earlier. I'm his only daughter. His only child, come to that. Nothing good enough for his little princess and so on. So, if it helps, it's not you, specifically." She paused, eyeballing him. "But you understand that it wouldn't matter to me even if he hated you personally, right?"

He took a deep breath, holding it for a moment and then releasing it with an explosive sound. "Darcy," he said softly, "it's different now. I understood that you would defy your friends; if they were true friends, there would be no need, and if the need was there, then they would not be true friends. But this is your family. These are your parents."

"I know," she said softly. "But at the end of the day, it's not their life. It's my life, and my choice, and I made my choice. And if they can't deal with that, then..." She shrugged. "Then I'll be very disappointed in them."

He chewed on his lip, taking another sip of his drink and studying her. "You are a remarkable young woman," he said finally. "So willing to defy everyone in pursuit of your desires."

She shook her head. "That's not it," she said. She sat forward, considering him, and tried to explain herself. "The thing about it is... like... I have to be true to myself. You know? It's not about getting my way, or getting what I want, or whatever. It's about... It's about honesty and self-respect and living with integrity. It's about... if I don't stand up for what's right in my own life, then where do I think I'm going to get the moral authority to stand up for what's right out in the world? And if I get into the habit of letting people bully me over things that are important, then how does that make me any different from a crooked politician who votes according to the whim of whoever makes the biggest campaign donation? If I don't have the strength to stand up to people in my personal life and say no, then what makes me think I'm going to be able to do it when it matters, to stand up against corporate interests or polluters or..." She paused, and grinned. "Or evil dictators?"

He laughed softly. "I see," he said, and something about the way he said it made her think that he really did see. "My dear, you continually surprise me."

She grinned at him. "I'm going to make it my mission to have you say that to me again in fifty years."

"As often as you like," he promised her.

She stood up, coming around the desk and holding out her hands to him. "I'm holding you to that," she said. She tugged on his hands and he rose, taking her in his arms when she stepped up to rest herself against him. After a moment, she raised up to kiss him, her arms coming up to wrap around his neck. He held her close and they kissed lazily, their tongues dancing and breath mingling.

At last, dizzy, she let him go, laughing softly even as she struggled for breath. He smiled, reaching up with one hand to tuck her hair back behind her ear. "My Darcy," he murmured. "I think the universe knew what it was doing when it gave you to me."

"Yep," Darcy replied, grinning broadly. Then she stepped back, tugging on his hands to draw him along with her. They crossed the length of the study, to the second set of French doors. These stood open, providing a clear view into his bedroom. She stood beside the doors for a moment, studying his face, and then she stepped inside, turning to face him. "You asked me for something, on the first day we met," she told him, her hands falling to the waistband of her jeans. "I'm ready to show you now."

He swallowed hard, staring at her as she stood there, softly glowing in the light of the lamp beside his bed. "Are you certain?" he asked, his voice low. "You know that I'm willing to wait until you're ready."

"I'm ready," she told him. "As long as you are...?"

"I am," he assured her, feeling breathless in a way that he hadn't since he was a very young man. He stepped forward into the bedroom, pulling the office doors shut behind him, and suddenly they were alone together, staring at each other in the low lamplight.

Darcy's fingers worked at her waistband, and Victor swallowed hard at the soft sound of her zipper. And then she tucked her thumbs into the elastic of her panties, tugging it down so that he could see the words written on that soft, perfect skin in his own cramped handwriting. He gave a choked laugh at the sight. "I never imagined..." he breathed.

She smiled up at him. "Will you show me yours?" she asked.

He nodded, shrugging his cape off and tossing it over a chair. With the press of a hidden switch, his armor retracted neatly, leaving him standing there in his under-tunic and light cotton pants. With a quick motion, he stripped the tunic off, and there were Darcy's words, across his left pectoral in her neat private-school cursive.

Her smile grew even broader and she stepped toward him, her fingers rising to gently touch the mark. He shivered slightly under her hand, and she raised her eyes to his. "Are  _ you _ sure, Victor?" she asked.

"Since the moment we met," he promised her. With slow, careful hands he began to strip her of her clothing. That done, he quickly removed his own, and then he bore her back onto his bed and drove all other thoughts from both of their minds.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some Victor POV. And a dog. And things.

When the door closed behind Darcy and her parents the next morning, Victor von Doom made his way back to his office and absolutely did not collapse into his chair. He stared off into space for a long moment, wondering exactly when this had become his life. Just a few weeks before, his life had been business as usual: running his country, developing new inventions, plotting the downfall of Reed Richards... and then, one minion made one mistake and nothing had been the same since.

He would never forget the expression she'd worn when she faced him for the first time in his throne room. The fear, no matter how hard she tried to hide it, had been obvious in her pale face and wide eyes. But he'd tried to be polite – it wasn't her fault that Boris Albu was an idiot – and then... then she'd spoken those words that he'd come to know so well: the words inscribed upon his chest.

_It's okay. It was an accident. I understand._

He had felt his breath stop at the sound of those words in her beautiful voice, and very nearly felt his heart stop as well. After so many years, he'd almost... well, not forgotten, but very nearly given up hope. The chances of meeting her before they were both too old for it to matter, he'd thought, were so narrow as to be nonexistent. She herself was twenty-seven; by now, he thought, she must have found some man who suited her, with whom she could build a real, normal life, and he would have to content himself with knowing that his soul mate was happy without him.

But then.

Then she'd been standing in front of him, obviously afraid but holding onto whatever scraps of courage she could manage, and she'd said those magical words. And when he brought her upstairs, into his private home, and she told him about herself, he had discovered something amazing.

She wasn't married.

She had not only waited for him, but designed her life to maximize the possibility that they might meet. She  _ wanted _ to know him, to give him a chance to know her, and to see what might happen. And when her friends had come for her, she had seemed almost... disappointed that she had to leave.

He'd had to restrain himself from throwing himself into his jet and following right behind her to New York. Against all common sense and logic, he found himself extremely unwilling to be parted from this brash, brave young woman he'd barely met. He was captivated. But he forced himself to stop, to calm down, to be responsible. Regardless of anything else, he had a country to run and citizens to take care of. So he stopped, he took care of his responsibilities, and he sent her gifts to express his tentative affection. Once he had gotten everything in order, he left for New York.

The welcome he got from the Avengers was about what he expected; the welcome he got from her was... surprising to say the least. He had extended his hand, expecting to receive hers for either a handshake or a kiss to her knuckles; she had bypassed it completely and  _ hugged him. _ At first, he wasn't even sure how to react, but his instincts were good and he found himself wrapping his arms around her in return. And she'd asked him to take her away, and he had.

Sitting in his New York apartment and listening to her rant about her friend had been... illuminating, to say the least. He couldn't blame them for worrying about her; in fact, he respected them for it. If he had been in Tony Stark's or Steve Rogers's position, he would have likely felt the same way. The idea of a woman under his protection being taken by a man he considered an enemy, endangered, and then discovering that said enemy was her soul mate? It was totally unacceptable. So he understood why they reacted as they did. He also understood her frustration, because of course she was accustomed to making her own decisions and living her own life, and to be questioned so, especially about so important a matter as her soul mate, would gall.

So he didn't mind letting her rant, but when she asked him to distract her, he knew just how to do it. And they started talking politics, and he discovered that behind that beautiful face and sweet personality was a fine, sharp mind full of political savvy and possessed of a pragmatic bent not unlike his own. And he began to understand that the universe might have known what it was doing when it paired her to him.

After that, the dynamic of their relationship changed, just a little bit. He had to admit, to himself if to nobody else, that he hadn't exactly taken her seriously at first. She was comely, yes, and nice to look at, and she was quick of wit and pleasant to converse with... but he discovered, very quickly, that she was also possessed of a very sharp mind, and uncommon good sense. He liked that. He liked that a lot. Here, after all this time, was someone who could be not just a mate but a true partner, someone who could, eventually, become Lady von Doom, and who could stand as his capable co-ruler.

They began spending more time together, but that involved him sometimes spending time with her friends – which was awkward as well because one of her very best friends was Steve Rogers, sometime Captain America and identical platonic soul mate of Johnny Storm.

He hadn't been totally certain, at first, what was going on with them. Darcy said that they were platonic, that Steve was involved with someone else... but he hadn't been certain he believed it until the day he met the man with the metal arm, Bucky Barnes, who turned out to be  _ not _ Captain America's soul mate, but whom Captain America married regardless.

On his embassy's lawn, even, in order to get around the twenty-four-hour waiting period that New York law required. With himself officiating, and Darcy and Johnny Storm standing as witnesses. And now he had Darcy's mother and father – the former of whom tolerated him fairly well and the latter of whom was at least managing to not be openly antagonistic – staying in his apartment while they visited their daughter.

As Darcy would say, what even was his life?

He shook his head, turning in his chair to stare out the window. He supposed he was going to have to get used to her parents; if he married her, as he was beginning to suspect that he might, he was going to have to deal with them for a very, very long time. He wondered how best he might go about winning them over; he had a feeling that his usual methods would not suffice. They hadn't with Darcy; she'd finally directly asked him not to buy so many expensive gifts, because they made her worry that he thought she was only interested in what he could buy for her.

She clearly liked and appreciated the things he  _ had _ bought – she used the bag every day, for example, and often wore the bracelet – but he'd stopped, restraining himself (for the moment - he was fairly certain she celebrated Christmas, and she had a birthday coming up, too). Instead, he would focus on non-material ways of showing his affection. Like teaching her how to do basic magic.

He felt fairly certain that she would accept his offer to teach her; just the fact that she had not only survived but thrived in a field totally outside her area of expertise proved that she had a quick and able mind that was willing and eager to learn. He very much looked forward to teaching her. Such instruction was often a very  _ intimate _ thing, as the bond built between student and teacher; his own first master had literally been inside of his head, deep within Victor's mind, teaching him the mental techniques that were required to control and wield sorcerous power. Such intimacy, Victor was sure, would only help cement the bond that was already building between himself and his soul mate.

His eyes drifted to the French doors at the other end of his study. They stood open, as they usually did, and through the door, he could see the night stand beside the bed, and his soul mate's pillow. The events of the previous night played in his mind, and he reveled in them: his first look at his mark upon her, the softness of her skin beneath his fingers, the sweet taste of her when he kissed her mouth and when he kissed her elsewhere. The gentleness of her voice in the cool darkness of his bed. The catch in her breathing when he did something that particularly pleased her. The soft cries of pleasure that she made when he brought her to completion.

His hands itched to touch her again, his arms to hold her. He wanted her, and not just her body. He wanted her presence. He wanted the soft sound of her breathing as she sprawled on the couch, reading something on her Kindle. He wanted her silly giggles when she found something funny while scrolling through Tumblr on her laptop. He wanted the sound of her voice, muffled, filtering in from the next room as she chatted on her cell phone. He wanted the scent of her shampoo permeating the air and the sight of her silly, brightly-colored sneakers peeking out from under a chair.

He had known her for less than a month, but Victor von Doom was well and truly intoxicated. And for the first time in a very long time, he decided to throw caution to the wind.

~*~

The Noho Market was one of Darcy's favorite places. Flea markets and garage sales had always been a particular draw for her, as there was nothing she loved more than finding some gem among someone else's junk and taking it home to love and appreciate it, so the Noho Market was basically the next best thing to Darcy's heaven. Her mother felt quite the same way about things, and so the two of them eagerly dove in. Among the stalls where vendors hawked tee shirts and cheesy souvenirs were other stalls where artists displayed their wares and odds-and-ends sellers - whom Shirley cheerfully referred to as junk dealers - offered pre-loved goods. It was in this mess of humanity that they very nearly tripped over Steve and Bucky.

Darcy was, in fact, so taken with an antique teddy bear that she turned, holding it out to show her mother, and nearly whacked Bucky in the face with it. She jumped back, startled, with an apology on her lips, and then realized who she was looking at. "Bucky!"

Bucky, who had been equally startled by the unexpected assault, stared at her blankly for a moment before seeming to shake himself and realize where he was. "Darce!"

"Look at this  _ adorable _ little mess!" She held up the bear.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at it. "It's falling apart," he said.

"Well, yeah, it's probably..." She paused, then snickered. "At least as old as you."

He gave her a mock glare. "Mean."

"Ah, you know I love you." She reached out and gave him a one-armed hug. "Where's Steve?"

Bucky turned, looking over his shoulder, and then pointed. Steve was standing in front of a pottery stall, apparently negotiating over the price of a set of handmade dishes. Bucky tossed his metal arm over Darcy's shoulder. "You out here by yourself?"

"Nah," Darcy replied. "My mom and dad are..." She looked around, finding them a few stalls away, examining the wares at a stall that sold very tacky souvenirs. "...apparently just randomly buying things, at this point." She gestured toward them. "What is she even doing? She doesn't collect salt and pepper shakers."

Bucky laughed. "Should we stop her?"

"Oh, hell no," Darcy replied. "I never get between my mother and a flea market stall." She turned back to the antique seller and inquired after the price of the bear in her hands. After a brief negotiation, she got it for twenty dollars less than originally stated, called it a win, and tucked the distressed little toy into the crook of her arm. "C'mon," she said to Bucky. "I'll introduce you."

Bucky nodded, glancing back over his shoulder to double check Steve's position. Steve was just taking the wrapped set of dishes from the potter, and he turned, waving when he saw Darcy. Darcy waved back, then pointed at her parents. Steve nodded, moving to intercept them as they approached.

And then all hell broke loose.

Darcy didn't see where they came from, but she  _ did _ see the skull logos on their arm patches and she knew immediately that they were HYDRA. At the first gunshot, flea market patrons began screaming and fleeing; Darcy saw her father push her mother over a table into the souvenir vendor's stall and then follow her, both of them crouching behind it for cover. His eyes were darting all around, obviously looking for her, and when he saw her, he held out his hands. "Darcy!" he called out.

Darcy met his eyes across the chaos. Clearing her mind, she took a deep breath and darted in his direction. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and tossed it to her father, throwing her new bear at her mother. "Call Victor!" she shouted at them. "Hurry!" And then she turned, darting back toward Bucky.

Bucky was laying about himself with his metal arm, fighting off anyone who came too close to him; Steve was not far away, working his way through the mess of HYDRA agents toward Bucky. Darcy saw one of the agents pull out something that looked like a syringe and aim it in Bucky's direction; with an animal scream of fury that she hadn't known she was capable of, she launched herself at the man, hitting his back hard. She wrapped her arms around his face and her legs around his torso, got hold of his left ear with her right hand, and began doing her level best to pull it off of the side of his head. He shrieked, and a stabbing pain in her right thigh got Darcy's attention. She looked down, realized that the syringe was now sticking out of her leg, and redoubled her efforts to separate the goon from his ear.

Steve and Bucky were by now back to back, a deadly blur of fists and feet as they fought off their attackers. Or maybe that blur was in her eyes; a wave of dizziness washed over Darcy's brain and, despite her best efforts, her grip on the HYDRA goon began to relax. She struggled to keep fighting, but it was no use; whatever had been in that syringe was clearly some kind of sedative, because a soft coolness was washing over her body, and she was losing control of her muscles. The goon shook her off, throwing her to the ground, and then he turned and kicked her hard in the stomach.

Darcy's vision began to darken, and she knew for certain that she was completely drugged when she was suddenly surrounded by a horde of thick, ape-like forms with only glowing red blanks where their faces should have been - and those thick, ape-like forms began to attack the HYDRA goons, ripping them limb from limb and pounding them into the paved surface of the ground. And then she knew nothing more.

When she woke, she was lying in her own bed, dressed in a tank top and a pair of pajama pants that were printed with unicorns and rainbows. Her new antique teddy bear was sitting on top of her dresser, within her line of sight, and there was someone else in the bed with her. She gathered up her strength and rolled her head to the right.

Bucky smiled at her. "Hi," he said softly.

She smiled back. "Hi," she managed, the word feeling like mush in her mouth. She cleared her throat. "Hap'n?"

"We got jumped at the flea market," he said. "HYDRA was trying to retrieve me."

"Mmm," she squeezed her eyes shut for a long moment, then opened them again. "'Member," she said. "'Kay?"

"I'm okay," he assured her, reaching over to brush a lock of hair off her forehead. "You saved me."

She blinked at him. "No," she said. "Drugged."

"Yes," he contradicted her. "You did." He pointed toward the bear. "Remember tossing that to your mom? And you pitched your phone to your dad and told him to call Victor."

"Mmm?" She thought about that. "No," she admitted.

"Well, you did," he said. "And Victor can teleport."

"Mhm," Darcy said.

Bucky laughed softly. "He teleported right to us. And he called up..." He paused, shaking his head. "I don't know. Some kind of magic things. Red faces. They took out the HYDRA guys." He paused, thinking about it. "We managed to keep a couple of them alive. Natalia is going to interrogate them."

"Mmm," Darcy said. "Don' wanna be them."

"Definitely not." Bucky chuckled. "Let me go tell them you're awake; your folks have been real worried about you."

Darcy closed her eyes, humming soft agreement. She felt Bucky slide off the bed and listened to his footsteps as he moved through her apartment. She floated a bit, but didn't sleep; a few moments later, there was a cool, metallic touch on her hand, and she opened her eyes to find Victor standing beside her bed. Her mother and father were coming around the other side. She smiled at them. "Hi," she said.

"Darcy Jo Lewis," Shirley said, her lips trembling, "you are  _ so grounded. _ "

Darcy and her father both laughed. "Sorry, Mom," Darcy managed. "Din' mean to scare ya."

Her mother took her hand, squeezing it warmly. "I'm just glad you're all right," she said softly. Then she looked up at Victor. "And it seems we have Victor to thank for that."

Darcy turned her gaze and her smile on her soul mate. "My hero," she murmured.

He sat down heavily on the side of the mattress. "My Darcy," he whispered, and it was then that she registered his bare face. "When your father called and said you had been attacked..." He closed his eyes briefly, pressing his lips against the back of her hand. "I swear to you, my dove, I felt my heart stop in my chest."

"Saved me, though," she assured him, her fingertips reaching out to stroke his cheek. "My Victor."

"I was going to wait," he said. "Pursue a proper courtship, a more respectable time frame. We have, after all, known one another for only a few short weeks. But after today, I don't wish to wait any longer." He fumbled in the pocket of his tunic and drew out a ring, a simple platinum band inset with brilliantly sparkling emeralds and black diamonds. "Will you be my bride, my Lady, and wear my ring and bear my children and rule at my side for as long as we two shall live?"

Darcy felt the silliest of grins split her face wide, and she said, "Of course I will."

The ring slid, cool and perfect, onto her finger, nestling at the base like it had been made especially for her. His lips pressed against it, and then pressed against hers, and she heard her mother stifle what she hoped was a happy sob. When Victor sat back again, they both grinned at each other, goofy and a little bit sappy. And Darcy said, "Well, help me up. Don' wanna lay around all day. Got to go show off this ring, yeah?"

Laughing, Victor took her by the hands and helped her to rise.

~*~

Over the course of the next several weeks, Darcy discovered that there was a lot more to being Doom's soul mate than even she had suspected, and things were complicated even farther by her association with the Avengers. After her parents went home, she went back to Latveria with Doom to be officially introduced to the populace as their future co-ruler (he would have called her his queen, but since he didn't use the title of king she thought that was a little awkward).

That official introduction involved a whirlwind tour of the country, visiting each of the major population centers and basically being put on display, shaking hands and kissing babies. After the second event, she called Steve in desperation. "My God," she said when he answered the phone. "How did you manage this in that ridiculous suit without strangling someone?"

"I drank a lot," he admitted.

"But you can't get drunk," Darcy said.

"That didn't stop me from trying," he confessed. He paused and then added, "The girls helped, too."

Darcy gasped, then burst out laughing. "Steve Rogers, did you debauch a bus full of USO girls while you were on tour?"

Steve laughed softly. "It's more the other way around," he admitted. "Remember, I was scrawny and sort of unattractive before the serum. Girls wouldn't give me the time of day. Afterward, it was like I'd rolled in some kind of catnip." He sighed nostalgically. "Those girls taught me a  _ lot. _ "

"I can't hear this. Somewhere, Tony Stark's perversion meter just went off and he doesn't understand why."

Bucky's voice came across the line, sounding like he was leaning over Steve's shoulder. "I'm very grateful to those girls, Darcy; you need to understand this. We're talking lighting candles and saying prayers, okay?"

The sound of a brief scuffle filled the line, and then Steve was back again, this time on speaker. "So, yeah. You'll be okay, though, Darce. Really. I mean, there's only, what, five big cities in Latveria?"

"Six," Darcy corrected him. "But yeah, there's only four left, and then we'll be back in New York for awhile. There's some kind of summit at the UN."

"Good," Bucky said. "I miss you."

"Aww," Darcy replied. "I miss you too sweetie."

~*~

Darcy's introduction to Latveria went fairly well, overall; on their return to New York, Doom suggested that it might be time to slowly begin introducing her internationally. They discussed her media "coming-out" carefully before Pepper made her suggestion, and within two weeks of coming back to the city, Darcy had an appearance on  _ Ellen. _ Doom was invited to join her but declined on the grounds that he preferred to only appear on television when he was delivering ultimatums to his enemies. 

Her appearance on that show turned her into an instant celebrity. The  _ Post _ ran a column calling her "the girl who tamed Doom"; in response, Darcy had a box full of fish heads delivered to the author of the piece. She started getting photographed on the street by paparazzi and ordinary people alike. She ignored all of it with her usual aplomb, and a week after the  _ Ellen _ appearance, she followed up on her promise to take Bucky to the animal shelter. 

They ended up at the Humane Society in Midtown, where they played with and petted a variety of dogs before Bucky finally said, sadly, "I don't know, Darce... it's like... it's like none of 'em  _ feel _ right."

Darcy chewed her lip for a moment. Then she turned to the volunteer attendant. "Do you have any high-risk dogs?" she asked. "I don't mean biters; I mean, like, dogs that are probably going to have a really hard time getting adopted."

The volunteer tapped his bearded chin for a moment. "We have one," he said. "She's turned into kind of a mascot around here."

He went to a door on the far end of the room and opened it, calling out, "Eris! Eris!"

There was a cheerful bark, and then an odd squeaking sound, and the young man stepped aside to let the dog through the door. Darcy blinked at the sight before her.

Eris was possibly the ugliest damn dog Darcy had ever seen. Her hair was a dingy off-white and stood up so that it looked like she'd had an electric shock. Her eyes were huge enough that they looked like they were about to pop out of her face (and they were two different colors besides). One of the ears sticking out of her comically huge head had apparently been chewed off; the other flopped forward pathetically. Her neck was so thin that it looked like it had no business holding up her head at all, and her body looked like a little pork sausage that had been wrapped in a sheepskin. She was _adorable._

But the best part about her was the little wheeled cart made out of what looked like Tinkertoys that was supporting the back end of her body. Bucky's eyes zeroed in on that cart. "What's that for?" he asked.

"She was hit by a car," the young volunteer explained. "Her back legs are paralyzed."

Bucky crouched down and held out his human hand. Eris barreled over to him, acted like he smelled delicious, and began licking his hand. So he held out his metal hand. The dog responded exactly the same way to that hand. When he reached down and scratched her chest, her muzzle gaped open and her tongue lolled out, her huge pop eyes falling to half-mast.

"Bucky," Darcy said, "I think that's your dog."

He looked up at her. "I  _ know _ this is my dog."

Eris barked. She was  _ definitely _ Bucky's dog.

"You know Tony's going to want to build all kinds of crazy prosthetics, right?" Darcy asked as they left the shelter, Eris tucked carefully into a little sling under Bucky's jacket. "A better cart, for sure." She reached out and scritched the dog's head as it poked out from under the denim jacket, looking all around with her huge, bright eyes.

"I know," Bucky replied, grinning. "I'm kinda looking forward to seeing what he comes up with."

Darcy grinned back. "I know  _ exactly _ what you mean," she said, her thumb rubbing against the smooth surface of her engagement ring.

Bucky smiled. "Yeah, it's never a dull moment for you, either, is it?"

"Nope," Darcy replied, grinning. Above their heads, a streak of flame shot across the sky, moving from the Baxter Building in the direction of Avengers Tower. "And you know? I wouldn't have it any other way."

-Fin-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU SO MUCH EVERYBODY. Seriously, I have no idea how this even happened, okay, but every single one of you who left comments and kudos have absolutely made the last two weeks AMAZING for me. I am SO GLAD you all came along on this cracky little lark with me.
> 
> Also, DO NOT DESPAIR! There will definitely be more in this universe at some point. I HAVE A LOT OF THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS, OKAY.


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